


The Good Fight - an Echo au

by EonAO3



Series: STRIKE [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Explicit Language, Fighting, Injury, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Weapons, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: Allison Addams never loved Brock Rumlow and HYDRA never recaptured the Winter Soldier. After SHIELD fell and the world thought Allison was dead, she carried on the fight against HYDRA alone and on her own terms. Discovered by Bucky Barnes in an abandoned HYDRA bunker, Allison found a new ally, and an unlikely friendship.This limited series finds Allison and Bucky on the run, after a narrow escape from a raid ona HYDRA base in Pennsylvaniain July 2015, the last of the marks on a stolen map of HYDRA outposts and facilities. It’s time for Allison and Bucky to sift through the intel they’ve stolen and plan their next move. As their fight for redemption and retribution carries them around the globe, certain events in the world threaten their freedom and, maybe, their very lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvus_Black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Black/gifts).



July 2015

“Now what?” Bucky asked, ahead of a low groan as he stretched his legs, pushing his feet into the floorboard, and reached his arms out to the dashboard. 

Allison slowly shook her head, her focus fixed on the map folded down in her hands. She turned it over, inspecting the other side before turning it inside out to look over the rest. She let out a slow breath, a little disappointed to say, “We’re done.” 

“We’re what?” he asked, his brow skeptically wrinkling down. “What do you mean, we’re done?” 

She swept her head. “There’s nothing left,” she shrugged, passing him the map and slouching down in her seat. “I don’t know where else to go. We’ve hit all the marks on the map.” Barnes turned his shoulder, hunching in to the light from the dome on the ceiling of the car, as Allison went on, “We need to ditch this car. We’ve had it too long.” 

“We ditch the car,” he considered, his lips turning down into a thoughtful pout as he eyed the map for himself, “then what?” 

“Get a new one,” she said, a little distracted by checking the mirror outside her window. 

“Then what?” he repeated, reaching over his shoulder to drop the map into the backseat.

He just barely beat her to reaching to turn off the light, as she admitted, “I don’t know.” 

The disappointment in her answer made him look over at her, as he settled into his seat again. He studied her for a moment, with her head tilted back to the headrest and eyes vacantly out the windshield, as if the answer or some direction was out there. He frowned to himself, pulling the latch near his hip and lowering the back of his seat. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” he suggested. 

“I think we’re okay here,” she said, a small crease coming to her brow, as her head lolled to the side to see him and worry, “You don’t?”

They’d barely made it out of the woods. It was maybe their last break that Allison had gotten out of the base and a miracle she and Barnes had been able to stay ahead of the HYDRA soldiers in pursuit. That was two hours and almost 150 miles ago.

“No,” he gave a narrow shake of his head, “I meant, out of _here_.” He made a broad gesture up with both hands. “You said so yourself, awhile ago, we can’t get predictable. I think it’s time we moved on; got out of the region, before anyone can start to zero in.” 

Allison quietly hummed, thinking it over. “Doesn’t matter if we stay or where we go,” she figured. “There’s no more marks on the map and your memory’s half shot to hell.” 

“Thanks a lot,” he sneered, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m not wrong,” she muttered, with a small shrug she didn’t care if he did or didn’t see. 

It was quiet for a few minutes and Allison thought Barnes might have fallen asleep, before he said, “We need to break into those files you stole; see where they say we should go.” 

Glancing over, he still looked like he could be sleeping, but Allison told him, “We can’t just walk in somewhere and use any old public computer.” 

“What’s the big deal?” Bucky wondered.

“We have to be careful,” she warned. “The files aren’t clean. There could be tracer programs written in to what I stole.”

“Take a look,” he shrugged, “find what we want, and disappear before anyone can show up to check the source.”

“There’s too much to go through.” She shook her head. “A quick look wouldn’t be much help. But I wish it were that easy,” she sighed, closing her own eyes. 

“You make everything else look so easy...” he trailed off. 

Allison grinned at the subtle jab, opening one eye to take a peek at him. Barnes was still nestled into his seat, but Allison wasn’t as comfortable as he looked. They’d been on the run for about three months now, stealing cars and following a stolen map across the northeast states. Allison knew the map, stolen from the HYDRA safehouse in Virginia last year, could only get them so far. 

Really, they’d gotten by on a hell of a lot of luck. As best Allison could figure, moving from one pinspot on the map to the next kept them ahead of the men on Bucky’s trail. Anyone else would think he had to be insane for Barnes to go anywhere near HYDRA again. It would throw them off; keep them looking in safer places. On the other hand, Lady Luck was working overtime to keep letting the two of them do the work they were doing.

There had been a couple narrow escapes, at a few of the larger facilities the map led them to. The most recent they’d sped away from only two hours ago, before the adrenaline was burned off and Allison pulled over to rest. Allison inhaled a slow breath and let it out the same, listening to the rain falling on the roof of the car, trying to think of their next step. They needed a new plan. But it would have to wait til dawn. It only took a few minutes, listening to the relaxing sound of the rain, for Allison to fall asleep.

“I’m hungry,” Barnes declared, poking a finger into Allison’s arm. 

“You’re rude,” she grumbled, her eyes screwing down tighter in protest of having been woken up from a comfortable and deep sleep. 

Allison turned, putting her shoulder into her seat and showing her back to Barnes. She peeked through one squinted eyelid to see the the hints of an orange sunrise backlighting the trees off the side of the road. Behind her, she heard Bucky moving around; his seat back straightening up and the handle of his door popping. 

“C’mon,” he said, smacking the back of his metal hand into her side. “I’ll drive.” 

She felt the car move for his weight leaving and the passenger door shutting. Without the rain, she heard his footsteps crunching through the overgrowth she’d backed into the night before. The handle of her door snapped from the pull of his fingers, still locked from the inside.

Barnes leaned down, putting his hands on his knees to stare at her through the window. She was still trying to sleep and he shook his head, tapping a finger on the window and saying, “Open the door, you lazy sonuvabitch.” 

He snorted, grinning smugly at Allison’s expression scrunching up and the petulant whine he heard from inside the car. He watched, as Allison rolled off her shoulder, unlocking her door with one hand and flipping him off with the other. Bucky opened the door, chuckling to himself as Allison tiredly climbed across the car to the passenger seat. He chased her away, swatting at her foot drug tiredly over the center console, as Bucky slid in behind the wheel and pulled the door shut. 

“You need a shower,” he told her, turning the key in the ignition. 

“What?” she scowled his way. 

“I meant you got blood in you hair,” he rolled his eyes, pulling on his seatbelt. Allison sat up to check herself in the mirror of her sun visor and, checking the gauges on the dash, he added, “And we need gas.” 

“Oh,” Allison softly replied, folding up the sun visor again and pulling her seatbelt across her. She twisted for the back seat, grabbing a plain, black ball cap to hide her hair under, for now.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he dryly repeated, putting the car in gear. “Not everything I say to you is an insult, Allison.” 

“Hard to tell, sometimes,” she muttered, slouching down in her seat and folding her arm on the door to pillow her head against the window. 

Barnes took it in stride, shaking his head with a smirk, as he pulled up to the edge of the road to look for any oncoming cars. He couldn’t blame her skepticism. If anyone else were around to see, they were both a little too mean to each other to be friends, most of the time. That’s what happens when two type-A personalities get stuck in a small space for the lengths of time they did, he figured. 

The only reason they hadn’t tried to kill each other was the mission. The closer they got to a target, the less they bickered and scratched at each other over nothing. When they had to put their heads together to plan and execute a raid, they worked like a fine-tuned machine. Barnes never expected to find an ally, after he escaped from HYDRA, but he certainly couldn’t have asked for a better partner to fall in with than Allison Addams. 

If he ran the odds of stumbling across a former SHIELD agent in the middle of the woods of Pennsylvania and have her turn out to be one of STRIKE’s top operators, he wouldn’t have taken the bet. But somehow, he couldn’t have had any better luck. Maybe they didn’t really like each other, but the two of them working together was a perfect symphony.

In the weeks they spent at the abandoned bunker in Pennsylvania, working on breaking the hold of the failsafe trigger word of his Winter Soldier programming, he had his worries about her. They were both too suspicious for their own good. At the end, he was a little ashamed he had ever doubted her resolve to help him. She’d spent hours with him in the infirmary they had used for a lab, studying incomplete files she had recovered from the damaged computers in the bunker and keeping meticulous notes from his bedside, while they went through countless trials and errors to try and break his programming. 

They both got something out of the deal. He figured they were both too proud to admit they didn’t mind the company, but Bucky knew the toll the isolation and being on the run took on him. He imagined it was only slightly less miserable for her. Maybe that was the reason they’d decided to stick together, he figured. He knew Allison was trying to make up for what she’d unknowingly done for HYDRA by working for STRIKE, just like he was looking for absolution for what he had done as the Winter Soldier. But revenge is a lonely business, he knew. He didn’t know how long they had, before one or both of them was captured or killed doing what they had been doing the last few months, but it worked better for both of them to stay together. 

“Carbs or protein today?” he asked, turning the car onto the road. 

“Carbs,” she mumbled, sounding halfway back to sleep. 

“Pancakes it is,” Bucky smirked. 

He should have known the answer to his question. The harder the op was, the more likely she was to want comfort food after. On the shoulder of the highway, a sign promised an IHOP and a few gas stations. He figured they could probably find a motel for a night somewhere nearby as well. They needed to recoup and figure out their next move. They might as well do it with a comfortable place to rest. 

Allison perked up after a second cup of coffee. She ate until she was full, not regretting for a moment the amount of food she put away. She ignored his remarks about her eating almost as much as he could, barely affording him a half roll of her eyes, while she sipped at her third cup of coffee and the waitress dropped off their check. 

After breakfast and a stop at the gas station, they drove a little further down the highway. They found a motel to check into, so Allison could get a shower. While she was in the bathroom, Bucky was laying out their gear and weapons. He inventoried ammo and checked conditions of weapons, despite knowing he didn’t have to. When Allison was finished cleaning up, he knew she would do the same inspection.

She said it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it’s just that she’d like to know for herself. That’s exactly why he did it for himself. It wasn’t lost on him that that was one of things they didn’t seem to trust each other on. They bickered over who sat where in restaurants, because they both wanted to watch the door. They went back and forth about the cars they stole and who was driving. It was an argument every time they moved on a large target about who was doing recon or why they both weren’t. It didn’t matter if he were holding a full tray of bullets for her to see. She’d still count the box for herself. 

“Stubborn mule,” he muttered to himself, zipping the duffel bag closed at the foot of his bed. 

“What was that?” Allison wondered, rustling a towel in her hair on her way out of the bathroom. 

Bucky shrugged, with an indifferent pout, saying, “Nothin’. Just checking gear.” He turned, moving the bag to the small table nearby with the rest of the guns and equipment. “We’re good,” he told her. 

Allison hummed and nodded, dropping the towel on the foot of the bed. She dug a comb out of her backpack to run through her hair as she grabbed her towel and went back into the bathroom. Bucky took off his boots, setting them by the nightstand between the two beds, and fell back to stretch out across the mattress. A couple minutes later, an idea finally came to him. 

“Europe.” 

Allison stopped, taking a second to see if he was going to say something else, before finishing hanging up her towel and asking, “What?” 

“I said, Europe.”

“I know what you said,” she frowned, snapping off the bathroom light behind her. “I’m looking for a little context.” 

“HYDRA’s a global organization,” he noted. “Maybe it’s time we went international.” 

Allison slowed to a stop and put her comb back in her bag, giving the idea some thought. Crossing the room to the table by the door to inventory their gear, she considered, “If we don’t know what to do, when we have home field advantage, how the hell are we gonna do any better overseas?” 

He tilted his head back into the mattress to see her open up the duffel bag he’d just checked. With a soft snort and a shake of his head, he sat up to pull his feet up on the bed and rest against the headboard to watch her, explaining, “I know a few things about overseas. A few places to try, things I think might still be there.”

“You _think_?” she pressed, interested that he might be on to something. 

Bucky nodded. “It’s been almost two years, since I was over there,” he admitted, “but the places I can think of are worth a look. They were big enough, they’re probably still there. They wouldn’t abandon them so easy.” 

“Might be a little easier to get around over there,” Allison conceded. “Everyone expects to find you in North America, I’d assume.” 

“Me, too,” he agreed. “The problem is...how do we get there?” Barnes bent up his left arm, wiggling his silver fingers. “Can’t exactly get through airport security.” 

Allison couldn’t help her sputtering laugh. “Even the dullest twit at TSA couldn’t miss you.” 

Barnes chuckled, nodding his agreement. “My odds of getting a passport approved are pretty low, too,” he added. 

“I can forge a passport for you,” she told him, opening up the next bag to check. “We just got to figure out how we’d even use it. I’ll be fine. I’ve got documents and a cover I can move around on. But how do we get you out of the country?” Allison looked over her shoulder, quirking up a brow and teasing, “You’d probably cost a small fortune to ship UPS.” 

“Ha ha,” he dryly said. “Very funny.” 

“What?” she innocently grinned. “I’d drill some air holes in the box for you. Promise.” 

“You’re all heart, doll,” he groaned. 

Allison grinned to herself, proud of her little jokes. While Barnes worked their travel options and the problems with each out loud, Allison listened along and finished checking their weapons. Satisfied with what she saw, Allison picked out a pistol and holster to take with her to put on the bedside table. 

Sitting on the side of her bed, facing Barnes, she announced, “We’re good.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” he rolled his eyes. “I told ya that ten minutes ago.” 

“Whatever,” she shrugged, panning her gaze over the room to see if there was anything else she needed to do. “Whatever we do, we still need a new car.” Allison looked back to Barnes. “I’m gonna go get a car. You should hit the shower, while I’m gone.” 

He squinted a discerning eye at her. “I can’t tell if I should be insulted...” 

“You look like hell,” she told him, standing up and slipping her gun into the holster at the back of her jeans. 

“Insulted,” he decided. 

Allison smirked, holding out her hand for him to pass her the keys. “I meant, we both could use some R and R.” 

“Sure ya did,” he facetiously smiled, giving her the keys from his pocket. 

“I think I might have an idea how to get out of the country,” she offered. “I need to make some calls. Don’t freak out when I’m gone a little while.” 

“Every second you’re not here is a gift,” he deadpanned, standing up to head for the bathroom. “I’ll enjoy my respite.” 

“Ha fucking ha,” she shook her head, pulling open the motel room door. “Be ready to move when I get back.” 


	2. Chapter 2

July 2015

She stopped at a pair of banks to get some more cash from the ATMs and picked up a burner cellphone from a corner shop. Allison found a mall two more exits down the highway where she picked out a new car to steal, courtesy of an easily distracted valet. On her way back to pick up Barnes, Allison dialed a number she hoped still worked. She anxiously tapped her thumb on the steering wheel, as the line rang. She let out a small sigh of relief when the call was picked up, even though no one said anything to greet her. 

“Shoo, it’s me, Al,” she said. 

Allison held her breath in the pause that followed, until she heard him warily say, “Can’t be. I went to your funeral.” 

Ben Schumacher used to work for the CIA. He was a spook from their Clandestine Services and he was a hell of an agent, when he wanted to be. He and Allison met when she worked for SHIELD’s CS. Schumacher was drummed out of the service for playing both sides for profit. He never sold State secrets or did anything that got any Americans killed, but he found himself a place in what he liked to call “logistics brokerage”.

Years ago, Schumacher had played a role in uncovering a weapons smuggling ring. Unfortunately for him, he never dropped his cover after the assignment ended and kept taking calls and brokering deals. He got away with the double-dipping for several months, before a wire transfer linked one of his accounts to a case the FBI was working. Schumacher was disavowed and blacklisted, but avoided prosecution to save face for the agency. Since then, he’d relocated to Casablanca and made a shit ton of money greasing wheels, making bribes, and everything else under the table to help solve his clients’ “importing and supply problems”.

“So did I,” she grinned. 

“Must have just missed you,” he said, still not sounding convinced. “But if you really went to your own funeral-“ 

“I’d have been disappointed you didn’t bother to wear a tie,” she nodded to herself, “but not surprised.” 

“At least I showed _my_ face,” he flatly told her. 

Allison excused herself, saying, “It’s a big faux pas to show your face at your own funeral.” To be a little more reassuring, she added, “And if Mick had been there, he’d have knocked your ass out for wearing the sunglasses you stole from him.” 

“I didn’t steal,” he corrected. “I fostered them and then adopted. He never came back for them.” Allison snickered and shook her head, as he went on, “You’ve been dead for, like, over a year, Al. You been off playing Arlene Plympton in some shithole Texas town, or what?” he asked. 

“Definitely, 'or what’,” she answered, with a smirk. 

“So, then what does Beatrix Kiddo need?” Ben offered. 

“To get out of the country?” Allison hoped, slowing to stop at a light and casually checking around her. “The sooner, the better. Preferably in a couple of days.”

“Well, hell, Al,” he balked. “Mock up a passport and go then. You forget tradecraft already?” 

She grinned, shaking her head. “I’ve got someone with me that won’t make it through screening.” 

Schumacher hummed. “Interesting. Who’s your pal?” 

“Nobody you know,” she assured him, moving along with traffic again. “I’ve been over all the scenarios, Shoo. We’re not getting out any of the usual ways.” 

“Jesus, Al. Who are you hooked up with?” he worried. 

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed. “It’s best that you don’t know.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, “but, before we go any further, tell me... This whole thing with STRIKE and you and HYDRA, true or false?” 

“False,” she promised. “For me, anyway.” To be a little more reassuring, she added, “I’m trying to make things right, Shoo, but I can’t do it from the States anymore.” 

It was quiet for a few moments, and Allison hoped that meant Ben was coming up with a plan. When she said his name, he distractedly answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I might have something for you. ...It won’t be cheap.” 

“How bad?” she winced, biting her lower lip and bracing for the answer. 

He asked where she was trying to go and she hoped her answer of anywhere he could get her in Europe gave him more options. Schumacher asked her to wait a minute and let him “think about it”. Allison was at his mercy. She’d give him all the time he needed, and she used the silence to consider how much money she had left in her account and how much she’d be willing to part with. 

“I think I’ve got it,” he spoke up again. “Can you get to Mexico?” 

“ _Mexico_?” she repeated, glancing at her blind spot to change lanes and get back on the highway. 

“If you can get down to Mexico City,” he explained, “I know some people that can help. I can give you a time and a lane to get through the border. You’ll need a car with clean plates, though. Swipe one near the crossing and you’ll be fine.

“Get down to MEX and I can get you through a gate and side door you into the terminal to beat security,” he went on. “There’s direct flights to a few places I’ve got contacts at. You decide and get me the names you’re moving under and you’ll have hard tickets waiting for you. Getting across the pond, though? It’s gonna take some change to buy in past Customs.” 

“How much are we talking, total?” Allison asked. 

“Total?” he parroted. “For two of you- and assuming you’re forging all your documentation yourself? 75 large.” 

“75  _grand_?” she nearly choked. 

“Hey,” he began to excuse, “I’ve got to pay off border guards, ground crew and airport security at MEX, and Customs agents and security wherever you hop off at. Bribes to supervisors at all ‘a those places, as a CYA in case you _do_ get caught,  _plus_  the airfare- which I’m assuming you don’t want to fly _coach_ on an 11 or so hour flight. And, of course, my fee.” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” she muttered, putting on her turn signal for her exit. Allison blew air out of her puffed cheeks. “That buys me safe passage for _two_ , if I can get us to Mexico?” she checked. 

“For two,” he confirmed. 

“Christ,” she complained. “That better include checked baggage fees and a bag of pretzels.” 

“You’re not taking anything heavy with you, are you?” Schumacher asked. 

“I need my equipment to come with me,” she told him. 

“That’s gonna be another 50 grand.” 

“How the fuck-?!” 

“You’re gonna try and tell me you think you can just take a suitcase full of guns with you and think that’s not extra?” he scoffed. “Greasing palms to move people is easy, Al. Moving guns over borders and onto commercial aircraft ain’t.”

“A hundred and twenty-fi-“ 

“Everybody’s got a price, Kiddo,” Ben told her. “I’ve got 12-15 people I’ve got to buy off to get you from A to B. If you were trying to leave three weeks from now, I could cut you a better deal. But the faster you want out, the more it costs. Don’t be naive, Al.” 

Allison set her jaw, shaking her head. “I’m not naive. I was just hoping for a friendly price. Christ, Shoo. You’re gonna bleed me dry.” 

“Come on, Al,” he groaned. “I’m tryin to run a business here. Besides, I know how much you were making back in the day. Horsemen don’t work cheap.” 

“Yeah,” she unhappily agreed, “they don’t. But it doesn’t matter what you made when they declare you dead, sell off your estate, and freeze your accounts.” 

She could hear the shrug in his voice when he reminded her, “Hey, you’re the one playing possum.” 

“Just shut up and gimme a minute to think,” she grumbled. 

Allison pulled into the parking lot of the motel and turned in to a parking space just down from the room she’d rented with Barnes. She took the car out of gear and slumped back into the seat, her elbow bent up on the door and drumming her fingers over her mouth. She didn’t have $125,000. Even if she gave him every penny she’d hidden away in her dummy account, she’d still be short over half, and there’d be nothing to live off of once they got to Europe. 

“I don’t have it, Shoo,” she quietly admitted, turning her forehead down into her hand. 

“What do you have?” 

“I can do-“ she stopped, a wince of frustration souring her expression and her hand falling helplessly into her lap. Her head fell back against the headrest, telling him, “I got 53. And that’s everything.” 

“I can’t do it for 53,” he told her. 

Allison’s head snapped up, at the knock on the windshield. Barnes was peering in from the passenger side. He asked if they were good to go and she nodded, waving a hand for him to bring out the bags from the room. He gave her a slow nod, watching her as he turned away and Schumacher asked if she was still there. 

“Yeah,” Allison sighed, dropping her head and scrubbing her hand across her forehead. “I’m here.” She looked back down the building to the motel room door Barnes had left open behind him. “How much for just one and luggage?”

...

Barnes picked up the remote and turned off the television. He took a quick look around, double checking he hadn’t missed anything on his previous walk through. He glanced back to the door, wondering if Allison was going to come and help. The car was still running and he figured she wasn’t coming in. Swinging the duffel onto his shoulder, he worried for a moment if she was still behind the wheel because she had to be; because she had a tail or someone was after her. He set her backpack up on his other shoulder and split the last three bags in between both hands, figuring seconds might count and he may not have the luxury of a second trip. 

He didn’t bother shutting the room door behind him. Barnes went straight to the car. Allison was off the phone now, her arms folded around the steering wheel and her head down, resting into the bend of an elbow. He gave the passenger door a tap with his boot to let her know he was back, as he walked towards the rear of the car. The trunk lid popped for him and he stashed the bags inside. Taking a look around, Barnes didn’t see anything suspicious or hear any sirens, but he got into the car quickly just the same. 

“Hey,” he said, looking her over. “You okay?” 

Allison nodded, straightening up and reaching back for her seatbelt. “Yeah. Got everything?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, blindly putting on his seatbelt, while his eyes were fixed on her. She didn’t seem to notice him staring, as she glanced around and backed out of the parking space. “Allison?” 

Allison hummed, her brow rising to say she was listening. “What?” 

“You sure you’re okay?” he worried. “You-“ 

“Fine,” she nodded, flashing him a quick grin. “I got us a way out.” 

“Yeah?” Barnes wondered. “How?” 

“We gotta head south.”

“So, who’s helping?” 

Allison exhaled heavily, as she chewed the last bite of her burger. She had been delaying the inevitable of having to explain the plan, and put it off by taking a sip from her soda, before saying, “A spook I used to know. Used to work for the CIA. Now he makes a living solving logistics problems.” 

Bucky nodded, wiping his napkin over his mouth. “You trust him?” 

She nodded, pushing her plate away. “Yeah.” 

“So, what’s the plan?”

“It’s not all put together, yet,” she told him, pulling out some cash from her pocket for the bill and tip. Allison figured if she rolled out the plan a detail at a time, he wouldn’t catch on. “We’ve got some things to do. First, we need to get your photo taken for your new passport.” 

“And then what?” he asked, taking up his glass for one last drink before getting up from the table. 

Allison stood up and pushed in her chair, pocketing the rest of her money. “We need to get to the border.” 

He followed her out of the restaurant. “Mexico? What happens in-“ 

“One thing at a time, alright? It’s still coming together,” she interrupted, walking around to the passenger side of the car and tossing him the keys. “And it’s your turn to drive.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, thumbing around the keys in his hand to get to the remote and unlock the doors. “But when w-“ 

“Later, alright?” she said, dropping in to the passenger seat. “I could use a nap.” 

Bucky pulled his door shut, eyeing Allison as she rubbed a pair of fingers in her eyes and he pulled his seatbelt on. “Okay,” he  relented, a little suspicious of the way she’d been behaving since they left the motel earlier. 

Barnes pointed them south again, following the highway out of Pennsylvania. Beside him, Allison was still and quiet for the next few hours. She looked like she was asleep, but he didn’t suse that she was. It was getting late and they needed to stop for gas again. Bucky got off at the next exit and pulled into the gas station that looked like the only business on the road. He shut off the engine and gave Allison’s arm a nudge. 

“Your turn to drive,” he announced, as she stirred and he got out of the car. 

She looked out the car window after him, seeing him stretch his arms up over head, before he went to the pump to start filling up the car. Allison got out, as well. She stretched long, reaching her fingers to the sky and rising up on her toes. She looked around, taking in the relatively quiet scene. There was only one other car pulled up to the station’s front and the only traffic that passed was up on the highway nearby. 

“Where are we?” she checked, meandering around to the back of the car to lean forward onto the trunk. 

“Somewhere in West Virginia. Probably another couple hours or so, before we hit Kentucky,” he guessed. “You want to drive through or stop for the night?”

Allison shrugged. “Either way.” 

Barnes nodded, taking in the dull red of the setting sun over the trees across the road. “We should probably stop,” he decided. Bucky gave her a quick once over. “You could use a decent night’s rest. You been asleep this whole time and you still look tired.”

Allison hummed a soft acknowledgement and stood up, as the pump kicked off. “We’ll stop the first place we see in Kentucky,” she suggested, and he nodded. 

Allison excused herself to pay for the fuel. When she came back, Barnes was already in the passenger seat waiting. They got back on the highway and made it to Kentucky and stopped at a motel. They unpacked the car, piling their gear on the desk in the room, before settling in for the night. Allison shut herself in the bathroom to take a hot shower to relax. 

Alone, she ran through the day’s events. She let the water run over her face, as she tried to figure out her money situation. She’d already promised to wire Schumacher 20 grand in the morning, as a down payment. Schumacher would get started on the arrangements with the authorities he had to bribe in Mexico. She promised him another 10, when they got through the border safely. But there was a lot of money left to pay and not a lot of options on how to earn it fast. 


	3. Chapter 3

July 2015

Allison and Bucky wove their way down the highways toward the Mexican border, keeping a low profile. They changed cars a few times and stopped a night here and there. While they had a room for the night, Allison worked on forging a passport for Barnes. For $300 and a forwarded photo, Schumacher would get him a driver’s license that would be waiting for him with the paid off border guard. 

The last stop they made in the US had them just a couple hours short of the crossing. The next morning they headed out,  picking out a shopping mall as near as they could get to the border to dump their car and steal a new one. Allison had a schedule to follow from Schumacher and directions on which lane to stay in to meet his man. Traffic at the crossing was backed up and slow, as expected. They tried not to let impatience get the better of them, but Allison couldn’t help muttering a complaint about how long it was taking the line to move, anyway. 

When they finally were signaled to move forward to the guard station, Allison presented their doctored passports to the guard with a casual grin, like any other tourist passing through. The man gave her a second look and another back down at the documents she’d given him. For a moment she thought they’d been caught; the car had been reported stolen already or they had been given bad information and the guard wasn’t the one they were supposed to meet.

The guard didn’t speak, while Allison and Bucky watched him fold their passports closed. Passing the phony booklets back, he gave her a nod and a smile, telling them to enjoy their visit to Mexico. Allison thanked him, handing off the passports to Bucky and driving off.

Barnes flipped open his passport, seeing something sticking out from the bottom between the pages. The guard had slipped him an Indiana driver’s license with all the made up information to match the identity Allison had created for him with the passport. He tucked the passports away in Allison’s backpack and slipped the ID into his wallet. So far, her contact was coming through.

“I’ll be damned,” he mused. “This might actually work.” 

They drove throughout the day to get to Mexico City. At a pit stop for gas, not far from the border, Allison contacted Schumacher again, letting him know they had made it into Mexico and to make the transfer for his next payment. The balance would be due, before they arrived at the airport. Allison and Bucky got a room near the airport, to be able to freshen up before catching the last flight out to Amsterdam for the night. 

Barnes hit the shower first, while Allison made the last phone call to pay off Schumacher and get their final set of instructions. On one of their last stops in the US, they had purchased a hardsided case with some foam lining. They took an evening to break down some of their rifles and make cut outs in the foam to move as much of their firearms and ammo as possible, as safely and quietly as possible. Part of their deal included the case being directly loaded on to the plane on the tarmac and getting a special tag that would put it aside to bypass screening at the next airport. There were only a few weapons that couldn’t fit and were hidden in the trunk of their car. 

Allison followed the directions Schumacher had given her, stopping just shy of the driveway to a service gate at the far end of the tarmac with two men working in a small guard shack. She pulled off to the shoulder of the road, leaving the keys in the ignition as they got out of the car. She popped the trunk, while Bucky was already on his way around to the back of the car to get the case of weapons. He already had the suitcase ready and their backpacks in hand, by the time Allison caught up with him. He opened her bag, taking out his passport to hold for himself and passing off the bag to Allison. 

“Who’s Silvio Sanchez?” he asked, picking up a small piece of stationary from the airport hotel room that had fallen on to the trunk lid when he pulled out his passport.

“What?”

“Silvio Sanchez,” Barnes read from the paper. “Is he the guy we meet?” 

“The guy?” she questioned, not realizing where he got the name, looking down at the paper in his hand. “Yeah. He’s our guy.” 

Bucky held out the note and Allison took it to fold in to the pocket of her jeans. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting,” he smiled and started off toward the gate in the fence with their case in tow.

It was a short walk across the street and up to the gate. Allison greeted the guard outside of the booth in Spanish, introducing them by the fake names she had given Schumacher to use. The man stepped back in to his booth to thumb up some papers on a clip board. While they waited, Allison took a casual look around to be sure no airport police, or anyone else, was nearby to check on the abandoned car at the roadside. Bucky kept an eye on the guards in the shack. 

“Neither ‘a these guys is Sanchez,” Bucky quietly warned, certain he had seen the names on the uniforms correctly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just give him a minute.”

“Ms. Bellamy, you’re a little early, but that’s good,” the guard said, in English, as he came back out of the booth. “Mr. Hubbard,” the guard nodded at Bucky, as the gate electronically unlocked and began to roll aside, “this way.” 

Bucky stepped around the gate as it began moving, taking the envelope of folded papers the man handed him and quipping, “They always say, arrive early for international flights.” Not hearing even a snort or groan from Allison for his lame joke, he looked over his shoulder and saw she hadn’t moved and the gate was closing, having opened only to let him pass. “What’re ya waiting for? C’mon.” 

Allison swept her said, saying, “I’m not going.” 

“You’re _what_?” Bucky turned around, quickly making his way back to the fence but not before the shrinking opening was too narrow to pass with his bag and the case. “What d’ya mean, you’re not going?” 

“I can’t,” she wearily shrugged. 

From his side of the fence, his eyes searched hers, under a brow knit down in suspicion. “The fuck does that mean?” he asked. He looked to the guard in the booth, telling him, “Open the gate.” Turning back to Allison, he reminded her, “This whole plan was your idea.” 

“I know,” she nodded, “and I’m sorry, but-“ She shook her head. “I can’t afford t-“ 

“You can’t afford to do what?” he shook his head. The gate was still shut and Barnes turned to call to the man again. “Open the fuckin’ gate!” he demanded, giving the metal fence a rattling shake.

“He won’t,” Allison assured him.

“We’re supposed to get on a plane, in 45 minutes,” he argued. His mind was racing with a dozen scenarios of why she was still on the other side of the gate. Was it a setup? Had she sold him out? “What the hell are y-“

“ _Money_ , okay?” she snapped. “I don’t have enough money to pay for both of us _and_ the guns to get out.” Allison shrugged again, her shoulders falling a little lower this time. “I could only afford the one; to send you.”

“Leave the guns, then,” he reasoned, his brow knit down in frustration. “For fuck’s sake, Allison.” 

“I still wouldn’t have enough to go.”

“What does it cost? We’ll make it up. We’ll-“ Bucky stopped, lost for what to say at seeing Allison wince, that same defeated expression he saw through the windshield in Pennsylvania. 

“There’s no making it up,” she sighed. Gesturing up a hand toward the airport behind him. “The trip down here and this exfil already broke the bank. I barely got four grand left.” 

Barnes blinked, his jaw slacking at figuring how much she had paid her contact already. He had been with her at ATMs. He’d seen how much she had to get them by on.

“Well, then, we wait,” he decided. “We go back and we wait, until we have enough money so the both of us can go.”

“You can’t stay,” she told him. “The longer you’re in the States, the riskier it gets. You know that.”

“But we can’t split up, either,” he insisted. “We’re a team.” 

“You’ll be fine,” she said, pinning on a smile, despite how weak it felt. Her stomach had been in a knot for the last few hours, thinking ahead to and worrying about this exact moment. “You know where you’re going. What help could I be, stopping to ask for directions all the time?”

In any other situation, he would have laughed, but all he could do was shake his head. “Why did you do this?” he complained, his brow creasing down incredulously as he gave her a once over. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We coulda figured out how to get the money.” 

“You. can’t. wait,” she reiterated. “Distance is our best bet, to stay ahead of Rogers and HYDRA and whoever else is looking for you. We’ve pressed our luck way too much, lately. We need to keep things in our favor, and that means a change of venue for the work.” 

Frustrated, his jaw worked against itself and he exhaled heavily through his nose, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, not wanting to admit she may be right. He looked her in the eye again. “We should stick together. We can stay here, in Mexico, and-“ 

“This is the plan,” she firmly swept her head. “You go ahead; get started without me, and I’ll catch up, as soon as I can.” 

“How will you know where to find me?” he scoffed. 

Allison inched closer to the fence, poking a finger through the chain link to point at a pocket on his bag. “There’s a burner in there,” she told him, as he let the backpack fall from his shoulder to the crook of his arm to find the phone. “I wrote down a number and there’s a username and password for Instagram.” Barnes turned the cell phone over in his hand to see the note Allison had attached to the device with a rubber band. “I have an account already connected with yours. Use it to message, and call only when necessary.” Allison took a phone out of her pocket to show him, “This will always be on.” 

Bucky nodded, tucking the phone away and taking care to make sure the zipper was closed on its pocket. He shouldered his bag again, telling her, “This doesn’t feel right. This wasn’t the plan.” 

“Improvise, adapt, overcome,” she grinned. She hung a hand on the fence, pointing toward his phone again and insisting, “Message me when you clear the airport in Amsterdam.” 

He let out a heavy exhale, accepting he had no other choice but to leave her behind. “What about you?” 

Her head tilted to the side and back again. “I’m gonna start saving my pennies,” she said. “Go back north, take a couple jobs here and there. I’ll meet you when I can.” Allison gave a small jut of her chin to beckon him closer. When he stepped up to the fence, she quietly told him, “Keep that bag close. There’s cash in there. A thousand bucks. Should get you around for awhile, with some of the exchange rates over there. If you run low, call me and I’ll wire you more.” 

Bucky nodded his understanding, before asking, “So, who is Silvio Sanchez?” 

“My first job,” she softly admitted. He gave her a suspicious look and she promised, “It’s legit. My contact doesn’t do that kind of business, but he’s got some- let’s just say, old friends who need some wetwork done, a little espionage.” He scowled and she reassured him, “US agencies, all on the right side. Strictly black op and off the books. He’ll let me know when there’s something for me and handle the money, for a small fee, and make sure my name stays out of it. It might take awhile,” she conceded with a nod, “but the money’ll come in.” 

“Jesus, Allison,” he grumbled, shaking his downturned head. 

“I’ll catch up,” she promised. Allison pointed at him again. “ _You_ just be careful.” She grinned. “And have a good flight.” 

Barnes reached up, putting his fingers through the fence to curl over the top of hers. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “You’ve done so much these last few months to help, and now-“ He swept his head. “Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.” 

Allison smiled. “Think about it for a bit. You’ve got a long flight. I’m sure you’ll have come up with something to say by the time you see me again.” 

Bucky snorted with a small nod. “Be careful, Allison.” 

“See ya around.” 

“Yeah. See ya.”

Pulling his hand back from the fence, Barnes picked up his case again and turned to follow the security guard. His gut twisted, telling him it wasn’t right for them to be splitting up, and he kicked himself for not questioning her suspicious behavior sooner. But he trusted her and had chided himself for what he took as his paranoia. He would have to trust her still.

It wouldn’t be easy now, though. They were a team, and a hell of a good one. He’d picked up new habits; did things different ways now, after working with Allison. His whole MO had to change again. But, more importantly, he had grown so accustomed to having her around. Someone to help plan and execute; to watch his back. Someone just to talk to. 

He believed her when she told him she would follow him when she could, but he worried how long he would have to wait. If he didn’t have her covering him, that meant she didn’t have him either. Barnes knew she didn’t need watching over. Allison was lethal. But it didn’t stop him from feeling protective of her. For the ribbing and the stubbornness and arguing, she was all he had anymore. Throwing a look back over his shoulder, he realized she was the only friend he had had in a long time. She was still there, arms hanging on the fence, watching him, like always. He felt guilty for leaving, despite knowing it was what was best for him and their mission. His followed his escort’s direction to get in to a running pickup truck.

Allison watched Barnes lift the weapons case into the bed of a truck with Security decals on the doors and tailgate. He climbed into the passenger seat and the truck pulled away. With a small sigh of relief, Allison straightened up from her lean against the fence. She flashed a limp grin and gave a small wave of thanks to the guard left in the booth and turned to head back to their car across the road. She dropped her backpack in the empty seat beside her and started the car, checking the mirrors before making a u-turn to head back north.

Allison woke up to the sunrise warming her face, slouched down in the driver’s seat of her stolen car. Rubbing her eyes and wiping her hands down her face, she tiredly sighed. She sat a little taller to take a look around, but there was no one nearby in the rest stop parking area. She turned over, pulling her backpack close and taking out the cell phone she’d subscribed service for under a fake name. 

Settling back comfortably into her seat, she unlocked the phone and checked the screen. No calls or texts were waiting and she made a small nod to herself, telling herself he might have forgotten to call and used Instagram instead. She opened and logged in to her Instagram app. She let out a heavy breath at not seeing any notification from Barnes. Allison checked the time, doing the conversion in her head for what time it was in Amsterdam and figuring how long ago he had landed. 

“Dammit,” she muttered, dropping her phone back in her bag. 

She shook off her worry, reasoning he might wait to contact her until he was someplace he felt safe. Allison grabbed her bag and got out of the car. She went around to the trunk and, after making sure no one was watching, packed the few guns Barnes hadn't taken into her backpack. She left the car behind, walking up to the building and interrupting a cab driver reading the morning paper near the road through the toll booth. She hired him for the short ride to the US border and climbed in to the back of his cab. 

Allison walked through the border, thanks to Schumacher’s arrangements, just another US citizen returning from an excursion. Safely on the other side, she took out her phone again. This time she smiled, seeing a new message from Barnes. 

[ Here safe ]


	4. Chapter 4

Nov 2015

[ Rain today. Barely broke into the 40s. So I broke down and bought a coat ]

Allison snickered, blindly reaching for her peppermint mocha with one hand and tapping her thumb on the screen of her phone with the other. She took a sip of her drink, glancing up at the new customer coming through the door across the room from over the edge of her cup. Satisfied the man wasn’t anyone she should worry about, she put her drink down and went back to her Instagram message to reply: 

[ Coward. I thought you used to live in Russia... ]

[ Fuck you ]

Allison snorted quietly, a smirk pulling back the side of her mouth.

[ You missed the whiskey festival here. Number 3285741 on the list of things you missed on this trip ] 

[ I’m trying. Work’s been slow lately. ]

[ How much more do you need? ]

“Do _we_ need,” she corrected under her breath, backing out of the app to log in and check her account balance. She hummed her own approval.

Since splitting up from Barnes, Allison had been able to get a trio of contract jobs through Schumacher’s connections. The work wasn’t particularly difficult for her or too risky, considering her résumé, and payment was promptly made on confirmation of bodies by the “employer”, or one delivery of a thumb drive of stolen secrets to a CIA arranged dead drop. Her balance was building back up nicely, but Allison had set a mark for the amount of money she needed to feel comfortable to move on and get back to work with Barnes with.

Unofficial, and completely deniable, government wetwork paid very well. She had more than earned back the money she’d spent on Barnes’ exfil to Amsterdam in the months since, but she wanted to have a nest egg, in case they had to buy their way out again. Allison had broken into six figures last month. Looking at her savings now, and knowing what it would cost for the two of them to run together, she had already accepted another two contracts. She didn’t want to end up with nothing to reestablish themselves in a new country with. 

[ Almost there. Two more jobs scheduled. How are you on money? ]

[ Still plenty from the last transfer. When do you get back to work? ] 

“Good,” she nodded to herself. 

[ Soon ]

[ I think it’s time to move on ] 

[ Where to? ] 

She took another drink, waiting on the ellipsis to disappear and his next message to come. 

[ Got a fuzzy memory about a place in France. Not much but I’m hoping things start to look familiar. That place in Germany I mentioned looks good but I could use some help moving ] 

Allison nodded as she exhaled, disappointed she couldn’t be there yet. On their drive down to Mexico, Bucky had shared the list of things and places he knew to look for in Europe. The facility Barnes remembered in Germany was still there. And it was still operational, while he waited on her to join him. He had found what he was looking for in Prague, if he was ready to move on; a man who was part of the programming experiments. Barnes knew his face and had found the vacation home he had overheard him talking about with his colleagues more than once. Allison didn’t know what happened to the man, but, if Barnes was ready to leave, she knew the man was dead. 

[ Can’t wait to help you move. Soon. I promise. ]

She finished off the last of her drink and pushed the cup away from her on the table. 

[ So I shouldn’t save you a seat for Thanksgiving... ]

Allison snickered, thinking of the holiday later in the week and shaking her head as she typed.

[ Unfortunately, no. But I hear Germany at Christmas time is nice ] 

[ Think you can make it by then? Santa needs to know where your annual lump of coal should be delivered ] 

[ Asshole ]

She grinned at the haloed emoji that came in reply, telling him,

[ One job after Thanksgiving. The second will take some fine tuning. Christmas is plausible ] 

[ If you don’t start doing your share of the work again soon, I’m going to find another partner ] 

[ Ha! ]

Dec 2015

Sipping a coffee, as he walked along the river in Angers, Barnes enjoyed the relative peace of France in December. The wind was mild today and the sun warmed well enough to tolerate the chill in the air. He had come up emptyhanded in France. The scrap of a memory about someplace along the Sarthe hadn’t fleshed out. He followed the river, taking his time to look for hints or clues to guide him and traveling for weeks, but nothing. He dismissed the memory as a figment of his imagination or a misinterpreted dream. Maybe he could put it together some other time.

His disappointment aside, he was still slowly adjusting to working alone. Targets and memories were slower to reveal themselves, without a conveniently marked map. The quiet wasn’t as helpful in deciphering and assigning meaning to the images and words that streaked across his mind when he slept, or sometimes while he was awake. Talking was helpful, sometimes, but he had no one to talk to without Allison. And when they messaged, they both kept their responses as vague or euphemistic as possible, in case someone were to find their exchanges. 

When he wasn’t actively looking for HYDRA, Bucky journaled, figuring it was a way to keep his thoughts organized, without Allison to hash it all out with him. It was a trick he found helped, after he escaped HYDRA, when things made the least sense. He figured it couldn’t hurt again. He hadn’t told her about the exercise, though. He didn’t want to put too much detail into their messages or have her worry over his confusion and frustration he sometimes felt about his memories.

He stayed in hostels mostly. Sometimes he would get a hotel room for a few nights. They were mostly just places for sleep. He traveled light and didn’t want to accumulate anything incriminating that needed to be carried around, like the recon work he and Allison used to do. The weapons he always stashed in a separate location at night, as he moved from place to place. He didn’t need curious eyes on him or to be bothered by strangers poking around in his “luggage”.

On a quiet day, when he had nothing but time for himself and wasn’t traveling, it wasn’t unusual to find a cafe or someplace else he could sit for awhile and use a computer. He checked the internet to keep up on the headlines back home, reading up on how SHIELD was recovering after the incident in DC over a year ago and looking for stories on the Avengers to keep track of Steve, assured by mentions of the Captain, or the team as a whole, was operating nowhere near where he’d been hiding. Once in awhile a new document would be made public from the HYDRA files that were leaked last year and the talking heads would be abuzz for a week or so. He paid careful attention to see if the news and analysis gave him any clues to follow. 

Now and then, he would forward a link for Allison to read. Sometimes, she sent him a link in reply that usually turned out to be a video of a funny cat or an otter, with a comment somewhere in there reminding him it was okay to relax once in awhile. He never really confirmed that he actually watched the videos and she never asked. He certainly wouldn’t admit that he had actually warched them more than once and sometimes a few times in a day, if he were feeling a little rundown. After a few weeks on his own, Barnes started to realize how much her company had actually meant to him.

Their exchanges subtly grew longer. Maybe the messages were mundane, and usually with nothing to report, but he looked forward to them immensely, the more time separated them. He would stay logged in to Instagram and wait to see if Allison would show up. Barnes never told her how long he actually waited, preferring instead to hope that she thought it was a coincidence when they were online together. The more comfortable he got with it being their only line of communication, the more he used it. 

No one else followed their private accounts and there were no profile pictures or bios to identify them. With that assurance, that they were the only ones to see, he posted a picture from Prague last month, taken from a hillside he had found himself on overlooking the city just before sunset. For whatever reason, in that moment, he remembered what she said about relaxing and he took a rest there to see the city lights come to life. He uploaded the photo the next day, with a short comment to say where he‘d taken it the night before and for her to see he was well. Since then, they each had shared a picture from something they had seen to say where they were. It worked well to reassure them about the other, when they went for stretches of not connecting online at the same time. 

Heading back in to town from the river, Bucky noticed an Internet cafe. He stopped in, finding a place for himself along the wall and away from the door. From his Instagram page, he opened his conversation with Allison. Bucky frowned, seeing there was no new message. The last one she had sent said she still had “a couple days scheduled for work” and not to worry while she was “busy”. Never the less he reminded her: 

[ 8 more days til Christmas. ]

Waiting in the Brussels Airport, Bucky’s hands were stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. His eyes ticked over to the clock on the arrivals board. Allison's flight had landed on time, but he was still waiting for her to appear. He waited, with his shoulder leaned into the wall. He arrived twenty minutes after her plane, hoping to give her time to make some progress through Customs. He didn’t want to be in the airport long and the next twenty minutes he had been waiting seemed like an eternity already. He promised himself he’d stop checking the time and fixed his attention ahead of him to keep an eye out for her. 

There was a small, hopeful rise in his brow, when the next crowd of travelers came by. He stood up off the wall, standing a little taller to crane his neck to be sure. As people started parting and thinning out to meet their rides and greet acquaintances, he spotted her again. He edged past a few people, reciprocating the grin Allison gave him when he caught her eye. Barnes hadn’t excepted to be so eager to see her and scarcely realized he’d reached out to hug her before it happened. 

Unexpected as it was, Allison folded her arm up behind his shoulders and hugged him back. “Hey,” she smiled. “You're still alive.” 

Bucky was relieved she hadn’t shied away from him. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I managed.” He let her go, straightening his jacket as a distraction for the awkwardness he felt, after she’d stepped back. Looking her over he asked, “Got any bags?” 

“Just what you see,” she answered, glancing down at the small rolling suitcase at her heels.

He tipped his head, saying, “Let’s get out of here.” Allison adusted the backpack on her shoulder and Barnes picked up her suitcase, hoping to play down his hugging her by grumbling, “It’s about time you showed up.”

Allison’s lips puckered to a grin and she nodded tightly. “I missed you, too.” 

Determined not to let on how much he had genuinely missed her, the only acknowledgment he gave of the comment was a small jut of his chin. On the way out of the airport, he told her they would have to catch a cab. He had a hotel room in Anneessens, expecting she would want some place to rest. Allison appreciated his forethought, telling him she was eager for a shower after the long transatlantic flight. 

After an indulgent, hot shower, Allison felt the flight and the long day before it catching up with her. She slept for a few hours, waking with quite an appetite. She and Barnes went to a restaurant a few blocks from the hotel and, while they ate, he caught her up on what he’d been doing on his own. She spared him the details of how she had earned it, but she was pleased to announce that they had just over $200,000 to live off of, and there was always the prospect of more contracts, should the need arise. 

They planned to take a couple days to rest and let Allison get acclimated to the new time zone. They filled the time, eating out and seeing the local sights. They wandered through the Christmas Market, drinking beer and sampling chocolates and other treats on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day they visited a church for morning mass. It was Allison’s suggestion, although it wasn’t really her thing, hearing Barnes talk about growing up in Brooklyn and going to mass with his family, while they strolled through the market the day before. The rest of the holiday they wasted watching movies and packing to leave.

They were up before dawn to check out and catch the train to Leipzig. They planned to stage there and begin recon on a HYDRA facility in a repurposed manufacturing plant north of Radefeld. When they finished there, they would move again, this time, settling in somewhere far from any HYDRA facilities Barnes could recall, where they could begin to start sifting through the intel they had been gathering over the last several months and find their next objective. Until then, they took their time, mindful that it wasn’t as easy to run in Germany as it had been in the US, without the familiarity of the area. 

The new year passed for them without any fanfare. They spent days planning their infiltration. Allison had followed some of the officers for the base and found out where they lived. When their homes were empty during the day, Bucky broke in, copying hard drives and taking photographs of anything he saw that might be useful. Allison spent the days watching movements around the facility, making detailed notes of timing and rotations of shifts and traffic in and out. 

From what he could recall, the Radefeld compound had limited administrative functions. It was a weighpoint on to other places, but it would still have access to the HYDRA network servers, something they hadn’t had in months. Against Barnes’ better judgment, Allison tested the security of the base by cutting in to a relatively overlooked section of fencing and spending an hour on the grounds, in one of her commandeered HYDRA uniforms, to better learn the lay of the land. When it was time for her to break in to the servers two days later, she was able to slip in and out under the cover of darkness through the same line she had cut through the fence before. Barnes was waiting with a car they’d stolen.

Allison and Bucky drove on to Erfurt, where they grabbed the morning train south. They stopped in Budapest and got online with Allison’s phone, searching for accommodations. To the best of their knowledge, they were some distance from HYDRA. They figured if they were going to stay put for awhile, they could save money and be less conspicuous by getting an apartment. They went over dozens of options over dinner, finding a few places to call about in the morning. After a night in a hostel, they settled on renting a small, 2 bedroom apartment in the west end. The apartment was sparsely furnished, but they could use the floor space in the close quarters. 

Allison set to work trying to figure out how to decrypt and search the HYDRA intel they had gathered. She reached out to Schumacher again for help, giving him a list of high-end computer equipment and software she needed, and other equipment. He promised her delivery in seven days. In the meantime, Allison and Bucky went about settling into their new home, buying groceries and some clothes, now that they had a place to keep them.

Allison fell back into her old physical training habits, finding a path around the neighborhood to run in the morning and getting Barnes to join her, although she joked that he probably didn’t need the exercise. She spent the better part of her days scouring the pile of thumb drives of HYDRA files, trying to identify the kinds and levels of encryption each had, hoping to learn how to bypass them. Barnes split his time watching Allison work, learning from what she was doing, and taking walks around the neighborhood to look for anything suspicious, despite the remote cameras they had surreptitiously rigged around and near their building and their apartment‘s hall and door.

They ate meals seated on the couch. The small table in the kitchen nook was set up for Allison’s tech. They took the occasional break, going to the mall to see a movie and finding some English television channels to enjoy in the evening, finding a sense of normalcy. Life was becoming predictable and comfortable, for once. 

“You gonna cook tonight?” Bucky wondered, his head bent down to see in the refrigerator. 

“What?” Allison distractedly replied, her eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop, as she jotted down a series of numbers for her notes. 

“Food,” he firmly said, standing up to look down the length of the small kitchen to Allison at the table in the next room. 

“Are you cooking?” she asked, looking between her pad of paper and computer to compare what she’d written down. 

Bucky shut the fridge, gesturing a hand up in the air, although she still had her back to him. “Are you kidding me?” 

“What?” she shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to see his look of exasperation. Allison frowned, asking, “What'd I do?” 

Letting out a soft snort of amusement of her cluelessness, he swept his head, saying, “Nothing. It’s just- Never mind. You hungry?” Spinning in her seat to hang an arm over the back of her chair, she nodded. He walked out of the kitchen, snapping off the light behind him. “Grab your coat. Let’s get something to eat.” 

Allison put aside her pen, saving her work and shutting down her laptop. “I think I’ve almost got it,” she announced, loud enough for him to hear her in the other room. “I mean, I wanna start with something small, like that drive from Connecticut, but I think I got an idea of what to do to unlock the encryption. With that, I can start dissecting what was attached to that drive and get a better idea of what we might come across later.” With the computer shut down, she stood up, muttering to herself, “Although I’d give my right arm to have just five minutes with one of the guys in Crypto back at SHIELD, to be sure.” 

“Enough,” he rolled his eyes, coming in to put her coat in her hand. “Less nerding, more fooding.” 

She quirked up a brow at him, as she followed him around through the living room to the apartment door. “You do know, half of what you said aren’t real words, right?” 

Pulling the door open, he waved her along. “Just shut up and buy me dinner,” he groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

Jan 2016

“You know,” Allison began, digging into her paper bag to tear off another piece of chimney cake as they walked home, “if I open those files tomorrow and activate a tracker or-“ 

“You won’t,” he assured her. 

“But if I-“ 

“You've been analyzing the protection on the files for days, now,” he pointed out. “You’ve got it figured out.” 

Arguing while she chewed, Allison worried, “But I don’t _know_ if I do. Yeah, I picked up a trick or two hanging out with the guys from Crypto and watching them work while I waited on something, but I haven’t been able to do that in almost two years. And the decryption work I did for myself when I was with CS...” Her eyes bugged at the thought, “God, how long has that been?” She shook it off. “It was low-end; unsophisticated. Nothing like what HYDRA would use. ...Programs are replaced, upgraded, rewritten. If I fuck up even one-“

“I’m not worried,” he insisted, taking his hand out of his pocket to reach across and dig into her bag for a piece of her dessert. 

She slapped at his hand and he chuckled at the sting, as he popped the shred of cinnamon dusted pastry into his mouth and she warned, “You need to take this seriously. Before I try this, we need to be ready to make a run for it, just in case.” 

“Fine,” he groaned, his head dropping back in exaggerated reluctance. “Tomorrow. And it’s about time. This waiting to find out something new is killing me. I need to _do_ something again.” 

“This down time is in our favor,” she told him, pulling apart her dessert and piling a few pieces in her bag. “They‘ll relax again, if they’re not constantly getting hit.” 

“Fuck them,” Bucky scowled. “How come they get to relax?” 

Allison snickered. “Because-“ She stopped and jerked away to keep him from reaching into the bag again. She moved the bag from her right to her left hand and gave him a shove away in the shoulder. “ _Because_ ,” she started over, “we need every advantage. A false sense of security for them helps us.” 

“If you’re so worried about it,” he shrugged, “then why even open it at home? Why not go someplace that’s easy to slip out of?” 

She shook her head, considering, “The risk is too high. Being seen on CCTV, potential civilian casualties if someone were close enough to try and engage or we pick up a tail... Besides, moving my setup would be a little conspicuous.” 

Bucky reached his hand up to her shoulder, playing at picking something off of her and drawing her attention to his movement. When she turned to see what he was doing, he snatched the bag from her hand, stretching his arm up out of her reach, as she huffed in frustration at his trick. Allison stepped into his path turning to him and jumping to grab at her bag. Barnes shifted away from her, pulling the bag in close to fold his arms over to hide. 

Allison put a shove into him, trying to scowl over the smile she was fighting. “Jerk,” she frowned. She flipped up a hand and turned around to start walking again. “Fine.” 

He followed along, a step behind and eating another piece of cake. “What, you never learned to share?” he wondered, as he chewed.

“You never learned stealing is wrong?” she asked, quirking up a brow over her shoulder. 

His brow creased down, pointing out, “Half of all we do together is stealing.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she rolled her eyes, “and you know it.” 

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, holding the bag out at arms length to her. “Here.” 

“No no no,” she waved him off. “It’s yours now.” 

He hastened his stride to catch up with her again. “Cah’mon...” 

“Nope.” 

“Take it,” he told her, reaching over to stick the bag in front of her face. 

Allison shrank away into her shoulders, unsure if he’d actually shove it in her face. But her ducking away from him only egged him on and he chased after her with the bag in a small circle, as she shrieked out a laugh and blindly swatted to shoo him away. Bucky laughed, amused by the noise and her cry for him to stop.

“Fine. Forget it,” he decided, straightening his face and walking on down the street, his surprise at the playful side of her he hadn’t seen before hidden behind his stoic facade.

Allison laughed, something she felt like she hadn’t genuinely done in ages. She wiped her hair back from her face. She caught back up with him and she smiled at him already holding a piece of dessert out for her to take. They walked back the rest of the way to their apartment in silence, sharing the cake until it was gone. 

“You gonna do it,” he wondered, leaning his shoulder into the doorframe of the small dining nook, “or what?” 

Allison shushed him, her head ticking to the side in annoyance. She needed to work up the nerve, first. “Just give me a minute,” she muttered, double checking her notes. 

“If you’re gonna do it, just do it,” Bucky told her. Allison had been staring at her computer for a few minutes, without doing anything else. “They’ll find us, or they won’t. The only way to know is to try it.” 

“How are you not nervous about this?” she pressed, turning in her seat to see him. “It’s not just a tracer to worry about. The drive could be wiped, if they-“ 

Barnes shrugged. “Won’t know ‘til you try.” 

Allison turned back to her laptop, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’d pay to have your absurd confidence,” she muttered, picking up the thumb drive they’d stolen from their raid on a Connecticut safe house and plugging it in to one of the ports on her computer. 

“It’s not absurd,” he argued, stepping in to the room to stand behind her chair and watch. “Don’t worry. If this doesn’t work, we’re outta here and we’ll try again.” 

She swept her head, silently scolding herself for her anxiousness, but she couldn’t help it. It was one thing to run lines of code to access a HYDRA file on a HYDRA computer. HYDRA servers only talked to HYDRA equipment. There were no nonproprietary programs or data lines that they didn’t control, when it came to safeguarding their information. On its own servers, the data was less protected there than when it would be exported or transferred. She had seen every device she attached to the HYDRA network was automatically formatted when it was connected. She couldn't be sure of what programs were added to protect the data when it was copied to her thumb drives.

Allison swallowed her nerves and typed in the command to begin running the decryption program. She folded her hand over her fist, resting her mouth to her hands, waiting. Her pulse was up, watching the lines of code run up the screen, peeling away one layer of security at a time.

“How long?” he hesitantly asked, but she didn’t know and simply shook her head.

Barnes put his hands on the back of her chair, his own nervous curiosity drawing him to bend down and look more closely at the screen. He didn’t expect it to be as easy as flipping a switch, but the minutes that passed as her program worked, tested his patience and threatened to let his own anxiety come through. He kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to put any more pressure on Allison than she had already put on herself. 

The text window she’d been working with disappeared and Barnes worried, “What happened?” 

Allison’s breath fell out of her, heavy with relief, at seeing a new window open to show a directory of files available to view. She put her elbows into the table, dropping her forehead into her palms. She closed her eyes, for a moment, combing her fingertips into her hair. Sitting up, she checked the screen again, still half-afraid it hadn’t really worked.

“Holy shit,” Bucky quietly marveled, looking over the screen. It finally hit him how much more opportunity they had to inflict damage on HYDRA, with access to their files, and, in his excitement, he unthinkingly moved his hand off of Allison's chair and across her, hugging his arm around her, as he proudly said, “Jesus Christ. You did it.” 

Her head dropped back on his shoulder, her eyes closing as an expression of peace came to her. She put a hand on his arm across her and gave it a reassuring pat, saying, “I can’t believe that worked.” She shook her head, begging, “Please don’t let this be a dream.”

“It’s not,” he assured her, eyes still fixed on the screen. “We finally got ‘em.” His smile beamed for her accomplishment, his arm across her squeezing her again. “This is gonna change everything.”  

Allison reached out to the touchpad on her computer, moving the cursor to click open a random file. When the next window opened and a counter showed several dozen pages to read, she couldn’t help but agree, “This changes everything.” 

Allison dove in, skimming page after page and reading lines aloud here and there for Barnes to hear when she’d find something interesting. Bucky paced as he listened, before eventually sitting down at the table with her. While Allison commented on the things she shared, he kept quiet, taking it all in and trying to decide what their next move should be. This went on for a few hours, until Allison pushed her chair back from the table and decided she needed a break.

“You've been at it for hours,” he agreed, getting up from his chair and tipping out of the way of Allison’s wide-armed stretch to walk around her and into the kitchen. “It’s getting late. What’s for dinner?” 

“I don’t know,” she yawned, folding and pulling an arm down behind her head, still stretching. 

Barnes took a fast look in the refrigerator, before offering, “Why don’t I just grab something? It’ll be faster.” He shut the fridge door. “What do you want?” 

“Surprise me,” she shrugged, walking around the corner to flop down on her back along the couch in the living room. 

“Famous last words...” he trailed off, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. 

When he came back, Barnes held up a large bag of Italian takeout. Allison sat up and put down the television remote on the cushion beside her. She asked what was in the bag, craning her neck to try and peek inside. 

“Your choices are,” he announced, pulling out a box to put on the coffee table as he listed, “the tortellini or the gnocchi. There’s a cold cuts and cheese plate to start. And, because you broke the encryption without getting us caught...I got you one of those chocolate soufflés.”

Allison closed her eyes and hummed appreciatively. “Mm. Delicious,” she grinned, reaching for the gnocchi. “Now if only you picked up a bottle of-“

“Way ahead of you,” he cut in, pulling a bottle of white wine from the shopping bag to hand to her.

“Oh, its like you know me,” she cooed, admiring the bottle as he turned away to hang up his coat by the door. 

“What can I say? All these months of being stuck with you finally paid off,” he smirked. 

“Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, opening the lid of the cold cuts plate. 

Bucky grinned to himself, going in to the kitchen to get glasses and utensils. Back in the living room, Allison traded him the wine bottle for the glasses and forks. He took the corkscrew to the wine and poured, while Allison started to eat. He handed her a glass, as she scooted over to make room for him on the couch. 

Lifting his cup to toast, Barnes offered, “To international espionage and the end of HYDRA.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” she nodded, tapping her glass to his before a drink. 

After dinner and dessert, Allison went back to work. She sat back down in front of her computer in the small dining nook, with one leg folded under her and her last glass of wine beside her. She poured over one report after another, compiling a list of names of personnel and facilities from memos. She’d lost track of the time, until Barnes shuffled in to the doorway behind her.

“Hey.”

Allison blinked hard, crushing her eyes closed after realizing how they burned from staring at the screen. “Yeah?”

“It’s 2:30 in the morning,” he told her.

“Is it?” she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes.

He took a step forward, laying a hand on her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not going anywhere,” he reminded her. 

With a soft snort, she nodded. “I know.” 

“C’mon, doll,” he coaxed. “That’s enough for one night.” 

With a tired nod, Allison made a note of where she was leaving off. Barnes waited for her, watching from the doorway as she stretched in her seat and rubbed the back of her neck. He frowned, taking a long step into the room, ending up behind her chair. He reached out, curling his fingers over her shoulders and pressing his thumbs to firmly draw a pair of lines down her neck. 

At first, Allison flinched, startled by the unexpected touch as she worked on shutting down the computer. His thumbs moved in small circles at the base of her neck and Allison let out a slow exhale, realizing how stiff she’d gotten sitting for so long. She forgot for a moment whose hands were on her, before she straightened up. The laptop screen blacked out and she slid out from her chair and from his touch. 

She flashed an awkward grin, telling him, “Um, thanks.” 

As she walked past him, Bucky nodded, managing to say, “Sure” as she turned the corner out of the small room. His gaze drifted down to the table, listening as he heard the bathroom door shut in the hall. He shook his head at himself, embarrassed that he seemed to have made her uncomfortable when all he’d meant to do was help. He hadn’t thought anything of it, until her saw her shied reaction. 

Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Allison took in and let out a deep breath. She leaned down, flattening her palm on the vanity and opened the tap for the cold water, cupping her hand underneath the water. Feeling her hand cooling in the water, she patted her damp fingers to her throat, trying to ward of the flush she felt. She startled again, at the gentle knock on the door, crushing her eyes closed and shaking her head at herself for jumping. 

"Yeah?” she answered, gently clearing her throat. 

“I just-“ He stopped and she blinked, watching the door and waiting for him to continue. “Sorry, if I, uh- Didn’t mean to invade your space, or anything. I was just trying to help.” 

Allison nodded, quickly turning off the faucet and pinning on a smile to say, “Yeah. No, you’re fine.” She wiped her hand off on the towel, opening the door to let him see her grin, before she moved to step around him and go to her room. “It helped. Thanks.” 

“Okay,” he warily said, not entirely convinced, twisting to watch her over his shoulder as she disappeared into her room and shut the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Feb 2016

Allison kept unlocking the files they’d stolen from HYDRA. Neither of them said anything about the other night. Bucky was relieved, for not having to try and explain something he didn’t quite have an explanation for himself. Allison was happy to avoid the subject, somehow worried that she would let slip that she had lost some sleep that night to trying to will away the flutter in her belly whenever she thought about how gentle his touch had been. It wasn’t a distraction either of them needed, she thought.

While they both played oblivious, Bucky read over her notes and perused some of the data himself, when Allison took a break to stretch out on the couch or in her bed, exhausted. They had information on dozens of facilities, from safe houses to offices of senior staff. Allison plotted locations of bases and more on maps she copied from the library. When they had read through all of the information they had, they would pick their next target and get back to work. 

Laid along the couch, Barnes thumbed through a notebook Allison had filled with information about HYDRA operations in Western Europe. “At this rate,” he figured, “you’ll have their whole operation mapped out by the end of the week.” 

“Pfft,” she loudly scoffed, with a smirk, hard at work in her little chair at the table. “Yeah, right.” 

Bucky grinned, closing the notebook and tossing it to land on the coffee table. “How many more thumb drives we got left, anyway?” he asked, folding his arm comfortably behind his head. When she didn’t answer, he gave it a moment and tried again. “I said, how many more drives are there?” He frowned, looking down the couch to the short hallway around the corner to the kitchen and her nook. “Allison. ...Allison?”

Bucky sat up, and pushed the button on the remote to mute the TV, listening. Shaking his head, he thought she might have nodded off at the computer. It wouldn’t be the first time. He put his hands on his knees to push and stand up, making a soft groan at his own tiredness. Seeing the time on the clock on the wall, he turned off the television.

“Hey, Al,” he called, as he stretched, grinning at his own amusement for the nickname he’d somehow never thought to use. Turning for the hallway, he rattled off, “Al. ...Ally. ...Allison. ...Sonny.” He chuckled to himself. “Heh, that’s kinda funny. D’ya hear me? Wake up.”

But Allison wasn’t asleep. He lazily scuffed to a stop at the doorway to the nook, seeing her staring at the computer. He shifted his weight, leaning to look around her and see what she was doing. Her attention was set on the screen, as she watched a black and white video playing in a small window in the corner of her monitor. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming in to the small room. His eyes leveled, as worried as suspicious by her lack of responsiveness. “What is that?” 

Allison finally blinked. “It’s you,” she softly said. “I found you.” 

“What do you mean, you found _me_?” Bucky looked down at her, a wary wrinkle deep in his brow. 

She pushed on the corner of her laptop to turn the screen. “We have copies of the Winter Soldier Program files.” Allison slowly swept her head, saying, “I don’t know how, but...it’s all here. Medical assessments and procedures, equipment specs, mission reports, training records... Everything.” 

Dropping to a knee, Bucky squared the laptop to himself to watch the video of men in lab coats working on a machine he was all too familiar with. He minimized the window to see the lists of files on the drive, asking, “Where- H-how did you find this?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, shaking her head. “It’s on the drive I made at the last facility we hit in Pennsylvania. I don’t know, I just...grabbed from as deep in the server as I could get. There’s other stuff; the usual stuff- staff, logistics, training. ...And then there was this.” Allison finally broke her gaze off the screen and looked at Barnes. “Records starting in 1945.”

He was speechless. Bucky slowly swept his head, scrolling through pages of files and folders of data about his life with HYDRA. He swallowed hard, blinking back the heat he felt pricking his eyes. When she reached a hand out to his shoulder, asking if he was okay, the only words he could think to say were a list of stunned profanities. He silently nodded, instead, wiping his hand over his mouth. 

“Everything you can’t remember about the last 70 years...” she marveled. “Where you were, what they did. We have it. You can get it all back.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he finally muttered, with a disbelieving sweep of his head.

“Right?” she breathed out, in her own disbelief of their luck coming out as a small laugh at the end.

Bucky's mind raced with the possibilities of what he might find in the files. There was a relief and optimism he hadn’t felt since they succeeded in disarming the trigger word last year and he turned and wrapped his arms around Allison. In his excitement, he cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her her forehead. Allison laughed and he realized what he’d done. 

He sat back, withdrawing his hands quickly and apologizing immediately. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t-“ He raked a hand back into his hair, shifting his weight to stand again. “Sorry. I guess, I got a little excited.” 

As surprised as she was by the kiss, she understood the reaction. She was still smiling, when she assured him, “That’s okay. I can imagine what this means to you.” 

Bucky shifted his gaze back to the computer, clearing his throat to get his composure again. “It’s just-“ He swept his head. “...I didn’t think I’d ever find this and now...” 

Allison gave a solemn nod. “Yeah, me, too.” She scooted back from the table in her chair. Standing up, she invited him to sit, saying, “Here. You should really be the one to see this first.” He seemed to hesitate, looking from the empty chair to her and back again, and she patted the back of the chair, saying, “Have a seat. I’ll, uh, just be in the other room.” 

He flashed her a humbled grin, moving to take her chair and adjusting the laptop in front of him. Allison nodded to herself and backed out of the little room, wondering if she should have called him in the moment she realized want she’d stumbled upon. She hadn’t been looking long, only a few minutes before he had come in, but, still, she worried now if she had taken something away from him by looking first. Allison shook off her guilt, going to her room to look over the notebooks she had been working on and leaving him to view his files in private. 

“Hey,” Allison said, as way of announcing herself in the morning. “You still at it? Please tell me you slept for a bit and just happen to be up early.”

“No,” he said, blinking and easing back in his chair. Bucky rubbed his thumb and forefinger in his eye. “Time got away from me, I guess, huh?” 

She snorted, coming in to the little room to pat a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break?” she offered. “Catch a couple hours sleep, or something. I need to finish the HR files from the last two drives. You can have it back then.” 

Barnes pushed back from the table to stand, nodding, “Yeah. Okay.” Allison slid in to his seat and adjusted the computer to her, clicking to close open windows and make room for her to start her work. Barnes stopped in the hall to turn around and tell her, “Thank you.” 

She looked over her shoulder, with a curious smile. “What for?” 

He waved his arm up at the computer and the small stack of papers mixed in with the rest of the equipment she’d set up. “For all of this,” he told her. “For helping me.” He nodded to himself, his eyes wandering over the things on the table and then shyly down to the floor. “I know you don’t have to,” he admitted. “And I know I wouldn’t have gotten here or have any ‘a this,” he gestured again to the computer as the screen blacked out, “without you. So...thanks.” 

A little struck by the unexpected sentiment, Allison nodded before she could send him an appreciative grin. Feeling the air was a little heavy in the room, she quipped, “Wait ‘til I send you my bill...”

Barnes quietly snorted. “Well,” he nodded, “thanks, anyway.”

The apartment was quiet, while Allison reviewed and organized her notes and Barnes studied the Program files. They didn’t speak much. Barnes’ attention was rarely on anything but the computer, lately. Allison had questions she wanted to ask, but she decided to let him say something first. She didn’t want to make him feel like he had to say anything, until he had all the answers he wanted for himself. Besdies, most of the answers she could probably investigate for herself, when he was finished. 

“Hey,” Allison spoke up, slowly sliding into the nook one socked foot at a time. “How’s it going in here?” 

Bucky turned over his shoulder, grinning at seeing her last slide. “Good. What’s up?” 

“Nothing,” she shrugged, folding her hands behind her back, “just making sure your butt didn’t fall asleep on ya.” She made a limp point of her finger toward the chair, adding, “That chair was _not_ built for comfort. The trick is to move around a little, every so often.” 

Snuffling a laugh, he nodded. “Yeah. Figured that out fast.” 

“I’m going out for a walk, maybe some food,” she told him. “I gotta get outta here,” she swept her head. “I’ll go stir crazy sittin’ here for much longer.” He chuckled and she offered, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, “You wanna come with? You keep staring at that stuff, you’re gonna go cross eyed.”

After a moment’s thought and a glance back at the laptop, he decided, “Sure.”

They took their time walking home, after dinner. Barnes got the sense that Allison could use the fresh air. He figured maybe he could, too. “Feels like we haven’t left the apartment in weeks,” he mentioned. 

Allison nodded, tugging the collar of her coat a little closer to her in the breeze. “That might be pretty close to actually being true,” she said. Stuffing her hands back in her pockets, she noted, “It’s been so quiet in there, it’s hard to tell.” 

Barnes frowned, conceding, “Yeah, haven’t been paying too much attention to you, or anything else, lately.” 

“I’m not a puppy,” she snickered. “I don’t need to be paid attention to.” 

“I know,” he chuckled awkwardly. “What I meant was, I noticed that, too.” He looked over at her, adding, “Sorry.” 

Allison didn’t know why she was shied by the unnecessary apology, but she grinned and accepted it with a nod anyway. “Don’t worry about it.” Wanting to lighten the mood, she joked, “Who knew you were such a narcissist?” Barnes chuckled quietly. “I mean, I’ve had some self-centered guys in my life before, but, man,” she swept her head, “ _you_ take the cake.” 

“What?” Bucky smirked. “You mad because I found someone else more interesting than you?” 

“Carly Simon wrote a song about you,” she told him, and laughed when he asked “Who?”. Allison waved a hand at him, telling him, “Never mind.” She pointed a finger up at him, “And I’m not mad, just...bored.” 

“You, too? Ready to move again?” he checked. 

Allison shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve got a few ideas mapped out, just waiting.” Her head tipped thoughtfully to the side, saying, “But there’s so much we haven’t gotten in to yet with those files, and I don’t want to rush you.” 

“I think you’ve been patient enough,” he told her, thinking it was a little selfish of him to be taking up all that time on her computer recently. He tried to remember the mission, telling himself it came first. The intel on the Program was theirs now. He had all the time in the world to look at it. “What were you thinking?” 

“There’s a facility near Salzburg,” she mentioned. “From what I’ve seen, a couple big names use its letterhead. Might be a good place to make some adjustments to the HYDRA roster.” 

“Assassination,” he considered with a hum. “No more espionage?” 

“I think we’ve got more than we know what to do with, for now,” she said. “If we sit still ‘til we’ve read it all, who knows what we might miss out there.

“I think we could run things from here,” she added, turning her chin down in a gust of wind. “Seems like we’re far enough away from anything of interest to anyone, let alone HYDRA, so it wouldn’t be the first place they’d come looking. Besides, tiny as it may be, I kinda like having my own little room. Beats the two of us being stuffed in a car together every night, any day.” 

His face pinched in exaggerated offense. “Oh, what, like I snore or something?” 

“Can’t help it. There’s something to be said about closing a bedroom door,” she mused. Allison bumped his elbow with hers, adding, with a wink, “But sometimes you snore.” 

He gave her a dubious look. “Really?” 

She held her thumb and forefinger a fraction apart, holding them up for him to see. “Just a little.” He huffed, incredulous, and Allison giggled, admitting, “You’re lucky it’s not that bad...or I’d have killed you in your sleep a long time ago.” 

“See?” Bucky jutted his chin. “It’s not so bad sleeping next to me.” 

“Whoa there, bub,” she laughed, holding up her hand. “That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Snoring? Pfft. That’s the first complaint I ever heard,” he said, with an arrogant smirk fixed firmly in the corner of his mouth. “And a pretty weak one at that.”

“Oh, please, Romeo.” Allison squinted an eye at his smug grin, shrewdly telling him, “I know all about you.” He scoffed and she shook a finger at him. “Between Steve and some excerpts of memoirs of James Buchanan Barnes, I know plenty.”

“Yeah?” he dared, cocking up a brow. “And in any ‘a those books, or whatever, did you ever read about some dame complaining, let alone about me snoring?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” she conceded. “But then I haven’t read them all yet, either.” 

His smile broadened. “Ha! Good luck.” 

“Don’t be so cocky,” she warned. “Girls’ll let some things slide, if a guy’s hot enough.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Barnes mused, and Allison didn’t know why, in the winter wind on the streets of Budapest, her cheeks felt so warm. “S’that why you haven’t killed me over the snoring?”

Allison tugged up the collar of her coat again, using it for shelter from his charming grin as much as from the cold. “Pfft. Yeah, right,” she rolled her eyes. 

As they walked, they didn’t seem to catch the streetlight long enough for Bucky to see if he could detect the flustration in her expression that he thought he heard in her reply. Nevertheless, he grinned to himself at the thought of it being there. 

March 2016

Allison stared at the ceiling. She turned her gaze over to the bedside table and glared at the time on the alarm clock. It’d been almost an hour since she woke up from a bad dream she couldn’t quite remember. She was having no luck falling back to sleep. The longer she was awake, the more frustrated she became. She finally decided she’d had enough and Allison pushed aside the covers. Out of bed, she grabbed the corner of the throw blanket from her bed to take with her, figuring maybe a little TV would make for a good distraction.

Looking down the hall, Allison saw the glow of the television reaching along the wall from around the corner. She walked softly, not wanting to wake Barnes if he had fallen asleep on the couch. Peeking around the corner into the living room, she saw Bucky sitting at the end of the couch. The volume was low on the TV and his feet were kicked up on the coffee table.

He looked over to see her lean her shoulder against the corner of the hall. 

“Did I wake you?” she wondered. 

Barnes gave her an easy smile, telling her, “No. I was already up.” She put her hand on the wall to pillow her cheek to, and he asked, “Can't sleep?” 

Allison nodded and gave a small jut of her chin toward him. “You?”

His smile turned sheepish, simply answering, “Same” and tipping his head toward her to say he’d had his own restless night. 

“What are the odds?” she humorlessly chuckled. 

“Right?” he snorted. Bucky tipped his head toward the television, offering, “Well, if you’re up, there’s some episodes of Monty Python on TV.” 

A grin came to her and she nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Allison dropped in to the other end of the couch, pulling up her feet and tucking her blanket in around her. Barnes snuffled a laugh, watching her fuss, and it caught her attention. She held up a corner of the throw, as an offer. The apartment always had a chill, late at night. 

“No, thanks,” he chuckled and Allison shrugged, pulling the blanket up under her chin.

The show went to a commercial and Allison wiggled down in her seat to get comfortable. At the other end of the couch, Barnes slouched down a little further into the cushions, folding his arms across himself. Allison noticed the subtle shiver of his shoulders in the cool apartment and sat back up. She knew he was too stubborn to admit even a small chill. She scooted down the cushions to sit beside him, flapping out the blanket to share with him so he wouldn’t have to ask later.

She nudged her elbow into his side, complaining, “You’re gonna make a draft. Put your legs down.” 

He grinned, shaking his head, but he pulled his feet back to put on the floor anyway. “Better?” 

Allison nodded, softly shushing him as the show came back on. He gave her a side eye glance and snorted. They watched the rest of the show in silence. When Allison fell asleep at the start of the next episode, Bucky didn’t have the heart to wake her. He kept watching TV, until he nodded off himself. 

In the morning, he woke up to find Allison still beside him, curled up under her blanket, facing the back of the couch and using his arm for a pillow. Bucky eyed the situation carefully, but couldn’t come up with a way to get off of the couch without disturbing her. He tried to move slowly, pulling his arm up from underneath her, only to have her slip down to rest at his side. Bucky sighed, thinking he had failed at not waking her, when she shifted from her side to an angle on her shoulder. But Allison only nuzzled her cheek against his chest and was still again. He watched her for a moment to be sure.

Bucky took his arm from the back of the couch, gently pulling up the blanket to cover her shoulder. He eased his arm back down, finding space between her and the back of the couch to rest. He settled his head back on the cushion, listening to the local weather forecast and closing his eyes, content to stay put until Allison woke up on her own. 

...

Allison inhaled deeply through her nose, stretching out her legs until her feet hit the arm of the couch. She made a soft, grumbling hum at not being able to move any further, pulling her arm out from under the blanket to reach it into the air and curl her wrist in a luxurious stretch. Rolling off her side, Allison’s eyes shot open, realizing the firm pillow under her head was, in fact, a person. Her head tilted backward, until her eyes found Bucky’s.  

“Sorry,” she sheepishly whispered, shrinking in to her shoulders. 

He gave her an easy grin, quipping, “At least you didn’t snore.” 

Allison winced, tucking her chin and pushing her hair back from her face, as she fumbled to sit up and turn around without intruding in any more of his space than she already had. He picked up his hand, to give her a little more room to maneuver, and they both realized it had been resting over her waist. 

“Well,” Allison began, pausing to clear her throat and put her feet on the floor, “...at least that wasn’t awkward.” 

“Pretty comfortable,” he conceded, sitting up himself, “actually.” 

She barked out a laugh, balling up her blanket in her lap. When he didn’t join in, Allison looked over to see him shrug at her. Barnes leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding one hand over the other. 

“M’just sayin’, I wasn’t _un_ comfortable,” he noted, putting his hands on his knees to stand up. “If you were,” he suggested, walking across the room and around the corner for the kitchen, “try not sleeping on the metal side, next time.” 

Allison sat there, dumbfounded. Her brow wrinkled down, confused by what just happened. She looked over at the empty space he’d left on the couch and back to where she’d last seen him turn the corner. She bit her thumbnail between her teeth and shook her head, tightly closing her eyes. “No,” she muttered to herself. “Don’t even think about it. You’re partners. You have work to do.” 

 


	7. Chapter 7

April 2016

“Car’s pulling up. ...It’s him. He’s early.”

“Copy,” Allison replied, putting her gloved hands on the edge of the desk to roll the chair back enough to stand. “We’re all set here.”

“He’s parking outside the garage tonight,” Barnes told her. “He's alone. He has the briefcase.”

Allison stepped lightly, crossing the upstairs office in the home of one of HYDRA’s mid-level administrators, after she clicked the mouse at the computer to execute a program. They planned to stage the assassination to look like a robbery gone bad. Allison had cracked the password on the man’s computer and sloppily written some lines of code that would be easily found and read as an attempt at breaking into HYDRA’s network. HYDRA’s techs would link the aborted cyber attack to AIM, the way she presented it. She was a little proud of that, enjoying the little extra added chaos it would cause for both agencies. 

“He’s on the walk, approaching the front door. 10 meters...5...2 meters...”

Quickly alighting the stairs, Allison snuck across the foyer just as the man’s key opened the bolt on the door. She slipped into the living room, before the door opened into the house and she heard Bucky advise her through her earpiece, “Breach.” She was still, back pressed against the wall and head turned to listen, as the man dropped his keys on the hall table and hung up his coat in the closet. His footsteps trailed down the hall to the back of the house.

Through the doorway to the dining room, Allison saw the reflection of the man in the glass of a china cabinet. He put his briefcase on the table and left the room for the kitchen. She heard the refrigerator door open and crept into the dining room to take a quick peek past the edge of the wall to finally see her target. Allison leaned back, as the man shut the fridge and turned for the hallway again. Allison waited there until she heard the man walk upstairs. Alone on the first floor, Allison went over to the briefcase. It only took a couple of seconds to jimmy the locks open and Allison shuffled the paperwork and folders inside around, scattering some haphazardly to look like someone had been searching for something.

“Now,” she whispered into her mic, cueing Barnes outside to call the man’s phone from a burner cell they’d bought earlier in the day, while she drew her weapon and started silently up the stairs.

Allison could hear the man talking to who he would be led to believe was a HYDRA Cyber Security tech calling to warn him about suspicious activity on his computer, drawing him into his office to investigate. As Allison crept up to the office doorway, the man was arguing on the phone that he just arrived home and no one was using his computer. She paused at the edge of the doorframe, taking a step away from the wall to widen her view into the room, as she inched her way across the doorway to locate her target inside. 

She had him in her sights and the man looked up, startled. He dropped the phone and reached for the desk drawer he kept a pistol in. He had only opened the drawer and seen the gun was missing, when Allison put a pair of shots into his chest. The man stumbled backward, a hand flailing for his balance, before he fell against the wall and slid lifelssly to the floor. Allison reached in to her jacket pocket, taking out his gun she had removed from the drawer when she first arrived. She grabbed the man’s limp hand and folded his fingers around the grip and into the trigger, setting the scene that he had seen the robber, but been too slow to shoot first. The last breath rattled in the man’s chest and she hurried out of the room.

On her way down the stairs, she took the silencer off of her pistol and stashed it and her gun in her pockets, along with the gloves she’d been wearing. She radioed to Barnes, saying she was finished. He gave her the “all clear” and Allison let herself out the front door. She casually walked down the street and around the next corner. Bucky pulled to the curb, in their latest stolen car, and Allison climbed in. 

“Another one off the list,” she noted, as Barnes pulled back into the road. 

May 2016

After weeks of venturing out across Europe to find their objectives, they were back in Budapest and their apartment again and it was time to start packing. They had enjoyed the relative peace of the small apartment for months, but the traveling to find their targets was taking a toll and getting riskier. The days of SHIELD’s supersonic jets secretly ferrying Allison to and from assignments were well behind her. The exposure of using Europe’s bus and train systems on longer and longer trips made them both wary. They decided it was time to move on and, like they had done in the US, move more often. 

They spent some time in Udine, using it as their base of operations to run missions from the southern border of Austria for a couple of weeks. After that, they moved further south into Italy, stopping for a week to recon and execute a raid on a listening station in Florence. From there, Allison and Barnes moved their work to Algiers. And then the incident in Lagos happened. 

They had watched the TV and read from the Internet with rapt attention after that. It was a relief in a way to know that Brock Rumlow was dead. The night they heard the news, they were eating dinner. They mingled in to the crowd gathered around a TV in the hotel bar. They watched for several minutes, listening to the news about the Avengers and the explosion in Lagos, before heading back to their room. 

“You alright?” Allison wondered, turning off CNN and watching Barnes look like he was only going through the motions to get ready for bed, listlessly poking around in his bag. 

“Hm?” He looked up. “Yeah. Fine.” 

“You seem...a little distracted,” she noted, pulling her feet up to cross under her as she sat down on the side of her bed. “Thinking about what happened in Lagos?” 

He hesitated, before nodding. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“What about it?” 

Bucky shrugged, zipping his backpack closed and pushing it aside on his bed. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I guess I always just kind of thought...that I’d be the one to get Rumlow.” 

“Disappointed?” she figured. 

He nodded, in spite of saying, “I shouldn’t be, right? I mean, if he’s dead, he’s dead, but... I don’t know.” 

Allison thoughtfully hummed. “I understand,” she nodded. “You had unfinished business.” Her brow rose, considering, “Maybe you would have gotten to him first, if you hadn’t found me and we started all of this. I get it. ...Regrets suck.” 

Barnes blinked, a bit confused by the frown he saw flinch on her lips, as she turned her head down and scooted up the bed to lean again the headboard. “I don’t regret that,” he said, sitting down on his bed. “Maybe I didn’t get to kill him, but maybe I did get the others.” He dropped and shook his head, wondering, “When is enough, anyway? Did I have to get him too, or is it good enough all the other things I’ve done?” Bucky looked up at Allison. “I don’t regret finding you. I don’t know where I’d be or what I’d be doing, but I know I wouldn’t have done half the things I’ve done without you.”

“Aw, shucks,” she flashed a goofy grin, swiping a hand down in his direction.

“No. Really,” he nodded. “I was so...angry. All I wanted to do was get revenge for what they’d done to me. The only way I knew how to do that was killing whoever I could find. ...But you?” A quiet snort escaped him as his head bobbed, appreciating, “You come along and you’re stealing from them, crippling them and taking them apart. The reports and files that you found... It’s like, now, what I’m doing might actually make a difference. I wouldn’t have any of this, if it wasn’t for you.”

Allison took it all in. “You...” She shook her head, starting again. “You are such a sap.” She laughed, reaching behind her to grab a pillow and whip it at him. “Are you kidding me, right now?” she laughed.

“Hey!” he frowned, catching the pillow in front of his face. His expression betrayed him, mouth opening in a smile, as he threw the pillow back at her and argued, “I’m tryin’ ta pay you a compliment, for fuck’s sake, and you throw a pillow at me?” 

“First, Lagos and now you,” Allison told him, fluffing the pillow before putting it aside on the bed. “It’s way too thick in here. Somebody had to lighten the mood.” 

“See?” he invited, motioning a hand toward her. “That’s why I need you around.” 

“You _need_ a good therapist,” she decided, getting up again. “And I need a drink.” 

“I’d scare the shit out of a therapist,” Barnes knew, with a sure nod. 

“God,” she chuckled, grabbing a pair of tumblers from a tray on the dresser, “that’d be hilarious.” She swiped the bottle of whiskey she’d bought a few hundred miles ago, on her way back to her bed. “I’d pay money to see that,” she grinned, passing him the glasses to free her hands to twist off the bottle’s cap. Allison poured a pair of fingers worth of liquor into each glass and put the bottle aside on the nightstand between the two beds. Taking a cup from Barnes, she sat down on her bed across from him and toasted, “To Brock Rumlow, and the end of the Winter Soldier handlers.” 

A crooked grin came to him, as he shook his head at her choice of things to celebrate. “I’ll drink to that,” he agreed, lifting his glass to tap to hers. Allison was halfway through a drink, when he added, “If you finally just let me say ‘thank you’ without making it into some kind ‘a joke.” 

“Hey, now,” she complained, without much direction on where she was going with it. 

“You don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?” Bucky figured, taking a sip of his drink. “You must be fun to pick up in a bar.” 

“I take compliments just fine,” Allison said. “I just don’t think I deserve them for what we’re doing. It’s just the job.” 

He softly chuckled, shaking his head, as he looked down into his glass. “So, only if _you_ think you deserve them, then?” he reasoned. Barnes lifted his head and threw back the rest of his drink. Reaching for the whiskey bottle, he reaffirmed, “I stand by my earlier statement.” 

“If I do something particularly well at my job,” she defensively told him, “then, yeah. Sure. But as a cover all, no. It gets kind of disingenuous after awhile, don’t you think?”

Bucky nodded along, as he poured himself another drink and put the bottle back. He took a sip and pointed a finger at her from off his glass, reasoning, “Then, only if you happen to do something in particular that’s noteworthy and above and beyond the day to day, or if it’s for something other than the job, you’d take it. So, back to the bar...” Leveling an eye at her in curiosity, he wondered, “What would you do, if a guy came up to you an’ said you were beautiful? You’d take that?” 

“What girl doesn’t like to hear that?” she smirked, ahead of her last drink. “Take that to the bank, save it for a rainy day.” 

“You’re beautiful,” he straight-faced told her. 

Allison scoffed and laughed. “Drinks aside, we’re not in a bar.” 

“Oh, so now it’s geographically specific,” he dryly mused, his eyes following her as she got up and put her empty glass on the dresser. She was rummaging around in her backpack, Bucky supposed for nothing more than a reason to ignore him and he pressed, “So, it doesn’t count.” 

Allison unzipped another pocket on her bag, looking for her nail file. “Of course not,” she agreed, “because you’re just trying to be a smartass.” 

“I’m trying to prove a point,” he countered. 

“I don’t see which one,” she muttered, finding her file and rounding the corner into the bathroom with it. 

“The one where I’m telling you ‘thank you’ and complimenting you, because it actually means something when I say it,” he spoke after her, putting his glass down next to the bottle on the bedside table, “and that it wouldn’t kill you to believe me.” 

Her brow furrowed as she listened and Allison put her file down on the vanity. “Wait. What?” 

“You’re not deaf,” he grumbled, as Allison leaned out of the bathroom doorway to peer back into the room. 

“No,” she conceded, “but I'll admit to a mild state of confusion.” 

He shrugged, getting to his feet and pocketing his hands. “You’re beautiful. What’s so confusing about that?”

“It- Well, I-“ she fumbled. “What on earth would make you-“ Allison closed her eyes and shook her head clear. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, snapping off the bathroom light, waving a dismissive hand through the air, and coming back into the room. “Thank you, but it has nothing to do with what we’re doing.” Allison stopped at the dresser to close her bag and move it to the corner with their other belongings. “And while we’re back to business, I think we should get out of Africa,” she said, getting a change of clothes to sleep in. “After Lagos and knowing Steve and the others have been in the region, or might still be, I think we should go.” 

“There’s nothing to bring him up here,” Bucky told her, watching her do her best not to look at him anymore.

“I know,” she nodded, her attention on closing the suitcase again, “but we don’t know what else brought them to Africa in the first place. If whatever their business is brings them north, I’d rather not take the chance of running in to anyone we know. There’s a place in Barcelona we can go next.” 

“Barcelona?” he distractedly repeated, a little annoyed that she had managed to start a different conversation, as Allison slipped back into the bathroom and shut the door. 

Pulling her shirt off overhead, she answered, “Yeah, Barcelona. There seems to be a couple regular meetings that happen there during the year.” She turned around to face the door as she changed, figuring it’d help him hear her better. “The next one won’t be for a couple more months, if I read things right, but maybe now’s a good time to do some recon, when security won’t be as high.” She gathered up her clothes, as she continued, “We need to figure out a way to tap into their system and-“ Allison stopped, surprised to see Bucky on the other side of the door as she opened it. “Jesus, Barnes,” she complained under her breath.

“Before we talk about Barcelona,” he spoke up, “can we finish talking about you and me?” 

“You and me?” she feigned ignorance, trying not to think of the other awkward moments between them in the last months.

“It’s been over a year, since we met,” he noted. “You've never once talked about anybody. No calls or letters home.” 

“Great,” she tittered. “That’s exactly as pathetic as that could have possibly sounded. Thanks.” 

She angled her shoulder to walk by him and he let her pass, turning to watch her tuck her things into the suitcase. “I’m not trying to insult you, or anything,” he assured her. 

“Because what could possibly be insulting about pointing out someone’s apparent perpetual singleness?” she scoffed, tugging the zipper closed on the suitcase and still trying to ward off the conversation with sarcasm. “Besides, not like I’ve got free time to meet new people.”

“You know I’ve got no one,” he noted. “Neither of us is alone anymore,” Bucky said. “You and me-“ 

Allison’s heavy sigh cut him off. “Barnes,” she winced. Things were never supposed to be this personal.

“Bucky,” he corrected. He tipped his head, studying her as he leaned his shoulder into the wall. “What are you afraid of?” 

She shook her head, adjusting her backpack on top of their luggage. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she confidently said. She looked him in the eye to add, “But this isn’t a life for anyone to have-” She struggled for the words. “...personal attachments.” Allison shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up now, of all times,” she muttered.

“You said so yourself,” he reminded her, “one day, you wanna go home. What are you gonna let yourself have then? Anything?”

“Are you kidding me?” she coughed out, with an incredulous laugh. “Going _home_? With all of this in motion again,” Allison gestured over the room around her, “you think I even _think_  about going home anymore?” She gave him a jut of her chin. “Maybe I’ll consider it, when we run out of spots on the map again.” 

“You’re letting this consume you,” he realized. When she shook her head and opened her mouth to disagree, he insisted, “I know, because for so long it did me.” Barnes straightened up off the wall, telling her, “Every day we’re still above ground is an insult to them, for everything they took away from us- friends, family, a home.”

Allison busied herself by climbing in to bed and arranging her pillows behind her to sit against the headboard and take up her tablet, as he continued, “Every supply interruption or operational delay we give them; every line on a roster we scratch out and outpost we raid or destroy, we’re taking something from them, but we’re not getting anything back.” He moved to sit on the side of his bed, his gaze set on the side of her face as she seemed to concentrate hard on whatever she was reading. “Why can’t we have something for ourselves? After everything they took from us, don’t we deserve it?” 

Her eyes drifted down her screen, a little shied as she considered his reasoning. Allison took in and let out a long breath, her head sweeping to one side and brow knitting down in a wince, as she answered, “Maybe. I don’t know.” 

She could admit, somewhere back in Budapest she had softened up to him. They had so much peace and time together there, they’d begun to pick up on each other’s ticks and copy some mannerisms. They knew when to give the other space or when to push them. In Budapest, Allison had begun to appreciate Barnes as a friend, instead of a just colleague. They worried over and watched out for the other in their own subtle and doting ways, making sure the other was sleeping or ate, accommodating their tastes and habits. They were more mindful of the other’s feelings and had found their own sense of humor. There had been more laughter and playfulness than she’d ever would have expected, after those first tense weeks in the bunker in Pennsylvania with HYDRA’s deadliest assassin. 

She considered only now, how much they had figured out about each other and that, maybe, she had overlooked or been ignoring how close they had actually become, for the sake of the mission; how comforting it had become when he checked on her after a nightmare and how gentle he was the few times he had touched her. Maybe he was right and there was something more to them than she had let herself see before. After all, there was much to admire about him.

Allison learned fast he was as sharp as they came and she was regularly impressed by his tactical skills. He challenged her, but was encouraging and had a confidence in her she sometimes forgot to have in herself. He was handsome and charming, when he wanted to be, his occasional flirtation and the heat it brought to her cheeks often tamped down and dismissed as an unnecessary distraction to their work, because it was a distraction. Wasn’t it?

Allison shook her head. “Why are you trying to complicate things?” 

“I don’t think it’s complicated,” Bucky said, standing up and stepping over to sit on the side of her bed. He reached his warm hand out to rest on her arm. “I think it’s been clear to me, for awhile now.”

Allison had watched his every move carefully, aware of the sudden rise in her pulse. She turned out of his touch, putting her tablet aside to sit up and put her feet on the floor on the other side of the bed, turning her back to him, trying to get her thoughts straight. “I don’t know what you expect me to say,” she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. “What you’re saying- It-“ 

“All you have to do is say that you feel something, too,” he gently encouraged. 

But Allison was still having trouble reconciling the mission. “It’s not what we’re supposed to do. There are lines,” she insisted, making a short downward gesture with her hand. “I told you, back in the bunker, this isn’t how things were gonna be, if they were gonna work. 

“We need...to be focused,” she tried to rationalize to him, as much as to herself. “The risks we already take- We don’t need to complicate things by bringing emotions into this. We stay mission oriented- _focused_. We see this through, and we-“ 

“I don’t think either of us knew we’d still be here,” he figured, his attention falling to his hands folded together to hang over his knees, “alive; still fighting.” At the interruption, she finally looked up to him again, peeking over her shoulder to see. “Over a year later?” He swept his head, considering, “The odds say one or both of us shouldn’t be. The shit we’ve done, just the two of us. I think we made that deal in the bunker thinking one of us would be dead by now, so it was easy to do.”

She saw the hard swallow he made and her eyes ticked around the room to find her next argument. “We keep beating the odds, though,” he pointed out. “The deal doesn’t matter, not anymore.” 

She lowered her forehead into her turned up palms, pushing her hands back over her hair, as he pressed on. “Listen to yourself. Mission oriented?” he questioned, turning his chin to see her behind him. “You think you’re still working for SHIELD? That there’s some OpOrd or regulations about what we’re doin’?” Dropping her hands to her lap, she turned around and met his gaze. “We don’t take orders anymore. The rules are what we make them.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes wandering between his. “I don’t know what it is,” she quietly admitted, “but, yeah...maybe.” 

The corner of his mouth turned up into a warm grin. “That’s all it takes,” he told her. “Just someplace to start from.”

They shared a look, in the quiet that followed. Allison sighed and lowered her head, saying, “I’m sorry, but there’s too much happening right now. We have to move, in the morning. With Lagos and Steve-“ She shook her head, standing up. “I don’t know what to do with this.” 

Barnes nodded, his own gaze falling away. “It’s okay,” he reluctantly said. He stood up, going back to his own bed. “Maybe you’re right. It’s not the time.”

Allison frowned, watching him turn away and push back the covers on his bed. She picked up her tablet, moving it to the nightstand as she climbed back into bed and Bucky settled into his own.

He reached over, turning off the lamp between them. “I just wanted you to know.” 


	8. Chapter 8

June 2016

They got what they could from a few days in Barcelona. Photos and videos of the outside of the building, as they pretended to be tourists on the street. Allison hacked CCTV to get a look at some of the less secure areas around inside and on the grounds behind the high wall for privacy. They found floor plans for the old building on a trip to the library. But they hadn’t found a way to figure out when the next meeting was. With nothing left to surveil, they agreed to move on. And they did it all with a heavy air around them.

They were both a little off balance. What was said in the hotel room in Algiers hadn't come up again. Bucky’s pride was hurt. He didn’t want to bring the topic of his attraction up to Allison again, afraid of being outright rejected or, at the very least, further alienating her. And Allison was still uncomfortable with the feelings she was trying to understand. She was a professional. Following rules and regulations had kept her alive in the Army and with SHIELD. Being emotionally compromised by a relationship with a coworker was never a good idea and, in a game as dangerous as the one they were already playing, could be fatally distracting.

At least, that’s what she told herself, when she’d catch a morose look on Barnes’ face in an unguarded moment. She didn’t want to bring it up and have the conversation go anymore wrong than it had the first time, trying to explain her hesitance. Eventually, the tension began to ease again and the casual conversations came back, but Algiers was always in the back of their minds. Allison found her self staring at him sometimes, when he had his attention somewhere else, remembering that night and asking herself what if’s. But she could never get around the arguments she’d made to stay away. Their safety was the top priority, especially his, she told herself.

In hotels, Bucky was less likely to sleep through the night, his enhanced hearing often the problem. Sometimes he’d watch Allison sleep in the other bed, wondering if she was right or if there was something else he could have said to convince her he was. They had both caught the other looking, a couple of times. Neither of them reacted as if it were anything more than coincidence, neither of them having any words to explain why they looked anyway.

Allison and Barnes found themselves in Bucharest. Allison had suggested the locale to regroup. Like Budapest, HYDRA wasn’t necessarily close by. They agreed it was time to lay low for a bit. Newspapers and television were still littered with commentary about the incident in Lagos a couple of weeks ago and the resulting call for oversight of enhanced individuals by way of the so-called “Sokovian Accords”. With the public and media talking about enhanced people and the chaos that seemed to follow them, it wasn’t unreasonable that people might be curious about Barnes again. Allison thought it would be safer if they stayed out of sight and see how things unfolded. Barnes couldn’t agree more. 

They wandered through a few neighborhoods for a day, watching the foot traffic and people who made it. There was a place they found, that let them pay cash by the week, a corner apartment on the top floor of an 18 story building that would do for a few days to start. It was dingy and small, everything compacted into a single, open room, save the bathroom. Nicer places could be easily found, and certainly afforded, but the sidewalks were busy enough that no one bothered to look anyone in the eye and the neighbors seemed to keep to themselves, and the lack of convenient accessibility to the apartment had its advantages. It was a perfect place to be incognito, until they decided their next move. 

“Well, this is cozy,” Allison dryly noted, turning on her heel in the center of the apartment to take it in, as the door latched shut behind their new landlady. 

“Hey,” he shrugged, “it’s just for a little while.” 

She quirked up a brow, jerking her thumb over to the full-size mattress, raised several inches off the floor, by a small frame. It was the only place for anyone to sleep. “So, uhh, how did you plan on addressing the sleeping arrangements?” 

Bucky looked down to the corner of the room behind her. A playful grin came to the side of his mouth, as he teased, “Well, I figured, I could lay on my side, your head on my arm for a pillow, spooned up ne-“ 

“How ‘bout you take the couch,” she interrupted, pointing toward the two cushion sofa. 

He chuckled, pleased to make her grin in spite of her best effort to scowl. “That was my next suggestion.” 

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “I bet.” She waved a hand for him to follow, saying, “Let’s get our stuff and start settling in.” 

The kitchen was small, like everything else, but it had the essential pots and pans to cook simple meals with. There was a grocer and fruit market only a ten minute walk away and the warm Romanian summer made the trip pleasant enough. The previous tenant seemed to only have enough interest in decor to put sheer curtains over the windows and nothing else. They covered the windows in the wall and in the doors to the narrow balcony outside with newspaper, to keep out wandering eyes of other tall buildings nearby. They pried up a couple floor boards and stashed a go bag, just in case, and hid the rest of their gear in a rented storage space several blocks away. 

There wasn’t a closet per se, but the bathroom managed to squeeze in a rack for hanging clothes. It was more than enough for them, traveling with only the essentials in backpacks from place to place. They regularly bought and discarded clothes, as needed, leaving their old items to charity before they moved on. The small dining table along the inside wall of the apartment had two chairs and the couch was wide enough for the pair of them to sit on without feeling too crowded. They watched the news and movies on Allison’s laptop there, to pass the time when Allison wasn’t going through the stolen HYDRA files. 

The Sokovian Accords had won swift approval, on the local and governmental levels of most every nation, and were set to be signed in Vienna. Since Lagos, the Avengers team had been noticeably absent from the public eye. Excerpts from the Accords were readily available online and Allison and Bucky read all they could find. Neither could imagine any of the heroes signing it. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky muttered, scanning the latest international news on Allison’s tablet and reading up on the newest editorial opinions. “Don’t they realize they’re putting themselves at risk, putting all these restrictions on them.” 

Allison turned off the faucet, after rinsing her hands clean. She grabbed the towel off the counter, wiping her hands as she agreed, “The first time something happens, after the Accords are signed, they’re going to regret it. Every rule and condition holding them back from acting autonomously is an invitation to some jackass to exploit it.” She hung up the towel and walked around from the kitchen to join him, saying as she dropped into the couch, “God help us all.” 

Too disgusted to read any more, Bucky closed the laptop and put it down on the floor. He scrubbed his hands up and down his face, with a tired groan. His hands fell into his lap and his head lolled over to see Allison. “You know, after the Accords are signed, you and me are going to be considered criminals.” 

Lifting her attention up from her phone, she looked over at Barnes, winking, “Only if we get caught.” 

Barnes chuckled, with a sweep of his head. He flipped up his hand, shooing her away, saying, “Well, until we get caught and get our own cells, you're on my bed, and I’m tired. Get out of here.” 

With a snort, Allison got up and crossed the short space between the couch and bed. She dipped down, putting a knee on the mattress to slide down and stretch out across the bed. Barnes walked around the apartment, clicking off the lights in the kitchen and the one over the table for two. He made his way back to the couch and adjusted the throw pillow behind his head, twisting to kick his feet up to hang over the arm of the sofa, as he slouched down into the cushions. Allison slipped her legs into the sleeping bag they’d thrown out over the bed, in lieu of buying linens for a place they had no intentions of staying. She curled up on her side and the apartment was still. 

...

Barnes peered over the top of his book. He sighed to himself, watching Allison twitch. He first noticed a few minutes ago. He clicked off his small flashlight and closed his journal, setting both on the empty couch cushion beside him. Allison was having a restless night. It had been awhile since she had one, or, at least, since he had been awake to know she had. He couldn’t stand to see her so distressed and stood up from the couch to step over the short distance to the side of her bed. 

Crouching down to rest his arms on his knees, he quietly said her name. She didn’t respond, still stuck in her fitful sleep. He carefully reached out, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Allison?” 

Allison woke with a start, a sharp gasp tightening her chest as her eyes snapped open. Disoriented in the shadowy apartment, instinct took over, telling her she was in danger and in the same instant Allison twisted, reaching for the side of the bed and the gun hidden under the edge of its frame. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky hissed, dropping to a knee and lunging forward, grabbing Allison from behind.

With his metal arm hooked around her waist, Barnes wrapped his other arm across her shoulders, pulling her away. Allison threw her elbow back, striking out blindly at whoever grabbed hold of her. Bucky took the blow in his ribs, with a small cough. He fell backward in the struggle, falling to his hip and pulling her down with him, finding his shoulder in the wall and her hands grabbing his arm across her shoulders. 

“ _Allison_ ,” he said, gritting his teeth and cinching his arms around her a little tighter as she struggled to free herself. “Ally, no. Calm down. It’s _me_.” He held his breath, as her resistance stopped, after one final attempt to jerk away from him. “It’s me,” he gently repeated. “It’s alright.” 

“The fuck...?” Allison breathed out, gulping down a breath, as her eyes darted over the walls and ceiling of the darkened apartment, orienting herself again.

“You were having a bad dream,” he explained, his voice warm and soothing from behind her ear. “I tried to wake you up and y-”

“It’s fine,” she tightly nodded. She swallowed hard, her grip over his arm beginning to soften as she slowly calmed down. 

“You okay?” he checked, tilting his head to see her hands still curled around his forearm. He noticed her breathing was coming back under control. She answered by nodding again and he did the same. “Good,” he said, relaxing his hold of her. When she didn’t make a move to let him go or sit up away from him, Bucky stilled, a bit confused. He tried to talk his way around the unusual situation, saying, “I didn’t mean to startle you. And then I saw reach for- Anyway, I’m sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry,” she insisted. Allison shook her head. “Fuckin’ hell,” she exhaled, crushing her eyes closed, more than a little embarrassed of the scene she’d apparently caused and the trouble there could have been, had she had gotten to her gun. 

“Lesson learned,” he grinned. “Let sleeping dogs lie.” 

“Oh, god,” she winced, and he chuckled. 

After a moment, he hesitantly noted, “I’m in your way.” 

“What?” she questioned, her brow knitting down in confusion. 

“If you’re ready to go back to sleep, now,” he pointed out, “you’d be more comfortable, if I weren’t in the way.” 

“Oh,” she realized. Allison glanced down at her hands on his arm. “Sorry,” she quickly, but shyly, offered, taking her hands back and putting one down to the mattress to help her sit up and scoot over and out of his way. 

Bucky sat up away from the wall. He unfolded his leg from underneath him, turning to put both feet on the floor. Her pillow had gotten bunched up between him and the wall and he smoothed it back into place for her before he stood. 

She made a minor adjustment to her pillow, busy work to not have to look at him, as she mumbled, “...wasn’t _un_ comfortable.” 

His brow wrinkled down, knowing what he’d heard under her breath but wondering if he’d heard her right. “What?” he asked, twisting to look down over his shoulder. 

Allison shook her head. Flustered she’d even said it out loud and chalking up the slip to still being out of sorts after her nightmare, she curled up on her side away from him. She was too embarrassed to admit it was those few moments in his arms that had been the thing to help calm her so fast. “Nothing,” she said, nuzzling her cheek into the pillow and hoping she sounded as casual and convincing as she had meant to. 

A faint grin tugged up a corner of his mouth. He watched for a moment, as Allison settled in. He started to turn for the couch, but stopped to look back again. He hesitated, drawn by her comment but worried he might be misreading it. Bucky exhaled, as Allison reached blindly to tug the sleeping bag over her legs again. 

He took the chance and the step back to the side of the small bed. He sank down to a knee, carefully moving to lie down with her. The dip in the mattress from the added weight was unmistakable and Allison lifted her head to peek over her shoulder. Bucky didn’t offer any kind of excuse or explanation, as he eased down onto his side and inched up behind her. 

He gently draped his arm over her side, asking, “Comfortable again?” 

Allison’s eyes flicked down to his arm, feeling it’s weight settle over her waist and belly. She slowly nodded, putting her head back down on the pillow. “Yeah,” she quietly answered. “Comfortable.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, resting his head on the end of her pillow.

...

“Good morning.” 

Allison squinted, her eyes adjusting to the sunlight coming in through the thinly covered windows. Her head bowed on the pillow, looking down the narrow space between her and Barnes. Somewhere in the night, she had turned into his arms, finding her head nuzzled under his chin and his warm arm pillowing her neck. 

“Good morning,” she tiredly, and a bit sheepishly, echoed. 

“Still comfortable?” he wondered, looking down at her, as her gaze came back up. 

She nodded, pressing her lips together to softly hum her affirmative reply. “Mhm.” 

“Okay,” Bucky grinned, reaching up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. 

Their eyes lingered on the other's, for a quiet moment, before Allison gently cleared her throat and broke her gaze away. He didn’t know what he had expected to happen in that pause between them, but he tuned in to the awkwardness of it as quickly as she had. Barnes took back his hand and Allison moved to sit up, freeing Bucky’s other arm for him to do the same. While he stood up from the side of the bed, Allison crawled out from the sleeping bag to get to the foot of the mattress, standing up and going straight to the bathroom. 

Glancing over his shoulder, as she closed the door between them, Bucky blew a breath out of puffed cheeks. He carded his hand back into his hair, giving his scalp a tired scratch, and headed over to the kitchen, not knowing if he, or either of them, should say anything, let alone what it would be. In the cupboard, he took down the tin of coffee. He turned on the faucet and set about getting some coffee going. While the coffee maker heated up, he put away the dishes in the drain board from the day before. It held his attention, until he heard the bathroom door open again. 

“I started some coffee,” he mentioned, hoping to avoid another awkward moment with some filler commentary. “What do you want to do about food?” 

“What’s this?” 

Bucky put up the last plate, turning over his shoulder to see what she meant. He did a double take, not expecting to see one of his journals in her hand. Allison was standing in front of the couch, holding the book up for him to see. She curiously noted she’d never seen him with a book before and he silently scolded himself for having forgot he left it out last night when he went to wake her.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged. “Just something I picked up.” 

Allison frowned at his vague answer, as she perched herself on the arm of the couch and tucked a leg under her on the cushion. She’d never seen him be so dismissive. It was unusual for him not to share something that seemed so trivial, and she called him out on it.

“Is it a book on farming,” she quipped, turning her wrist to inspect the back cover of the book, but finding it as blank as the front, “because it smells like bullshit.” 

“What?” he grimaced. 

“I ask what you’re reading and you don’t even tell me the title?” she pointed out, her hand smoothing across the cover before putting her thumb to the edge to fan the pages. “Seems a little shady.”

“It’s just a book,” he told her, trying to sound as indifferent or bored as he could, on his way around out of the kitchen to grab the book out of her hands.

Allison huffed, pouting after him for not having had a chance to see what the book was about. “Hey,” she complained. “That’s rude.”

“What?” he shrugged, putting the book out of reach on top of the refrigerator.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” she wondered. “We keeping secrets now?” 

“No,” he insisted, rubbing his warm hand at the back of his neck.

“What, is it a romance novel?” she teased, with a mischievous grin. “The Idiot’s Guide To Life In The 21st Century?” 

He couldn’t help a small snort at the last joke, but he still shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s just...private, is all.”

Watching him move along the kitchen counter, Allison sank down off the arm of the couch to kneel, leaning her belly against the back of the couch and resting her elbows on the top of the cushions to see him go over to check on the progress of the coffee maker. “Is that your dream journal, or something?” she snickered. When Bucky didn’t respond, her smile instantly fell. “Oh,” she blinked. “Oh, shit. Is it?” 

“It’s my journal,” he reluctantly admitted, getting in to the cupboard for a pair of mugs. “I’m not keeping secrets.” 

“I- I’m sorry,” she fumbled. “I didn’t mean to make a joke of it. I mean, I was joking, but I didn’t-“

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, his attention diverted to the mugs he put on the counter. 

Allison felt incredibly small, realizing he wasn’t going to look at her. “I really am sorry,” she promised. 

He nodded his appreciation of the sentiment, affording a glance in her direction to see the apologetic frown on her face and her brow wrinkled up in worry. The look gave him pause and a frown flinched over his own lips. He’d told her they weren’t keeping secrets. Barnes decided she deserved the story.

“I started it last winter,” he told her, reaching for the coffee carafe. “After we split up.” He started to pour, explaining, “I did it before; after DC, when things were the most confusing. It helped sort things out. Without you, there was no one to talk to anymore. So, I thought, I’d start doing it again and got another book. I kept it up ‘til you met me in Germany. ...I read ‘em, every now and then.” He twisted at the waist to hold out a cup to her. “T’make sure I still remember things right.” 

“It’s a good idea,” she softly agreed, leaning a little further onto the back of the couch to take the mug. 

Bucky got the milk out of the refrigerator and the dish of sugar from the counter. He set the bottle and dish on the rangetop along the back of the couch where she could reach them and got a spoon to hand her. Allison accepted it with a meek grin.

“I feel like such an asshole, right now,” she told him, taking the lid off the sugar.

He flashed a weak smile, telling her, “It’s alright. Really.” Giving the book on the fridge a contemplative stare, he decided, “You can read it, if you want.” He poured a bit of milk in his drink, figuring, “There’s nothing in there I wouldn’tve told you about, if you were there.” 

Allison took a deep breath and shook her head. She set the spoon aside to stretch out her hand to put over his, saying, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you to just tell me.” 

“S’okay,” he nodded. “You couldn't be. I understand.” 

She squeezed his hand, promising, “We won’t ever split up again.”

He snuffled a laugh, as she took her hand away. “Yeah, okay.”

“And I’m sorry about last night,” she shyly offered, grabbing the milk to add to her coffee.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “You know that.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she parroted, with a crooked grin. 

“Smartass,” he muttered, ahead of a taste of his coffee. 


	9. Chapter 9

June 2016

On the floor beside her bed, Allison’s phone rang. She put her laptop aside and scrambled off the couch to catch it before it stopped ringing. Barnes came back inside, from the kitchen door to the balcony, his brow knit in suspicion, asking, “Who’s that?”

Fumbling to turn the phone right-side up, Allison motioned for Barnes to be quiet as she sat down on the edge of her bed and answered. “Hello?” 

“You’re not up to anything, are you?” Schumacher wondered. 

Allison grinned, saying, “Just working on my tan.” 

“Pics, or it didn’t happen,” he told her, and Allison snickered. “Put your sunscreen away. I got something for ya.” 

Bucky stood in front of Allison, his arms crossed and a questioning rise in his brow. “Well?” he quietly pressed. 

“It’s okay,” she mouthed, before telling Schumacher, “Not really looking for anything, right now.” 

“It’s a hell of a payday, Al...” he enticingly said. 

Eyeing Bucky’s impatient walk away, she reiterated, “I’m not looking for any work, Shoo.” 

Barnes stopped and turned to look back at her, his interest piqued again at the name, as Schumacher told her, “It’s not really an offer. They asked for you.” 

Allison stiffened, instantly on alert. “ _What_? By name?” 

“No no no,” he assured her. “Nobody knows about you, but me. I promised, remember? I keep my promises. But they know you by rep now, and they want you.” 

“You ‘bout gave me a heart attack. Jesus,” she sighed, relaxing again. “Who’s asking and what do they want?” 

“CIA,” he answered, before pausing to smartly add, “You’re shittin’ me, right?” When she said “no” he told her, “Turn on the TV.” 

“Don’t have one.”

“Computer. Your phone. Whatever,” he rattled off. 

Allison took the phone away from her ear and put the call on speaker. She opened her phone’s browser to search for current news, asking, “What am I looking for?” 

“There’s only one thing happening,” he solemnly told her. “You’ll see.”

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed out, as her widening eyes scanned the headlines and story previews of an explosion that happened at the Vienna International Center.

Bucky quickly crossed the room, turning to sit down next to Allison and see for himself, as Schumacher said, “Yeah. That.” 

“What the hell happened?” Allison gaped, tapping to open a gallery of images from the site of the explosion, as Barnes put a hand down on the mattress behind her to lean over her shoulder and see her phone better. She pinched an image to zoom in on a photo of a crater in the street near the building. “Car bomb? Truck?” she supposed. 

“I think so,” Schumacher agreed. “Maybe a van. Nobody’s claiming it. But people died. Important people, Al, like the king of Wakanda.” 

“Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head. 

“That message you sent a few days ago, you were in Romania,” he said. “You still there? Bucharest, right?” 

“Yeah,” she distractedly answered, struck by the images she was seeing. 

“I’ve got something coming your way,” he told her. “CIA is part of a Joint Terrorism Task Force in Germany that’s deploying to oversee the investigation. You’re familiar with JCTC. They’ve got an image of a suspect they plan on releasing to the public, in about five hours, your time.”

Shaking her head, Allison considered, “Sounds like CIA has it covered. Why bother me?”

“Two heads not talking to each other,” he groaned. “ _Conflicting_ _interests inside Langley_  was all I could get out of my contact. Somebody wants to find this guy first. Be at the main post office in an hour. I’ll send you details on a currier outside who’ll have a package waiting for you. It’s got the surveillance video the Task Force pulled their image from, unedited. I’m sending along a few extra things to help. ID him, find him, and bag him before JTF does, and there’s six figures in it for you.” 

...

Bucky was out of his seat at the table, the instant he heard Allison’s key scrape in the lock of their apartment. She shut the door behind her, throwing the locks closed. Taking a couple steps forward, Barnes eyed the box she took from under her arm to put on the table with her keys, freeing herself to take off her jacket and dry the rain from her hands on the sides of her jeans. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she swept her head, draping her jacket over the back of one of the dining chairs. “Haven’t opened it yet.” 

“I think I’ve read every article and seen every cell phone video from the bombing,” he told her, watching as she picked up her keys again and used one to slice through the tape sealing her package shut. 

“Figure anything out?” she checked. 

“No,” he shook his head. “It all reads like every one copied and pasted from everyone else, and no one really knows anything.” 

Folding back the flaps of the box, Allison pulled out a small stack of CDs. She shuffled through the pile of discs, none of them originals. She recognized the names of the programs though. The last CD was labeled “video”, followed by a camera number and time. Allison reached past Barnes to pick up her computer. She sat down at the table, grabbing one of the discs to start uploading on her laptop. 

“Don’t you want to watch the video?” he wondered, a wrinkle of confusion in his brow. 

“I do,” she nodded, as she started typing commands into the computer. “But I’m working against the clock. I have to be efficient. We can look at the footage, after everything is installed, while the programs do their magic.” 

Bucky sighed, walking away to go sit on the couch. “Fine,” he grumbled. 

“It won’t take long,” she promised.

After several minutes of silence, his impatience got the better of him and he wondered, “So, what’d you take this job for anyway? They think HYDRA’s involved?” 

She shook her head, trading one disk for another. “He didn’t say who was involved, besides the CIA. It’s a little too high profile for HYDRA though, don’t you think? I mean, what could their rationale possibly be for hitting the UN? And over the Sokovia Accords?” 

“Sometimes chaos doesn’t have a reason,” he shrugged. 

“That’s very philosophical of you,” she grinned, popping open the CD drive to put in the surveillance video.

Allison waved him over to her and Barnes got up from the couch, snuffling a laugh at her remark. He grabbed the back of the other chair, dragging it down the side of the table to sit at the corner and share Allison’s view of the screen. She clicked on the video files to open up what appeared to be recordings taken from a parking garage’s CCTV system. There were a dozen cameras to choose from. Allison clicked on the number of the one marked on the CD, putting it in the center of the screen. 

“What are we looking for?” Bucky asked. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, advancing the video to the time she had read on the CD label, “but we should see it...now.”

A man came into view. He crossed the camera from right to left, wearing a jacket and hood with his hands hidden in his pockets. The man was walking past a row of parked work vans and happened to look directly up at the camera before he left its field of vision.

“Is that it?” Allison frowned, rewinding the video to see the man walk by again.

“That’s it?” Barnes seconded. “What the hell are you supposed to do with that? Where’s the picture they’re supposed to have?”

“Well,” Allison grinned, clicking around the screen, “first, we isolate the frame and zoom in...clean up the image...and-“ She stopped, studying the picture on the screen. “And that kinda looks like you...” 

“What the fuck?” Bucky was staring as well. “Is this some kind ‘a joke?” 

“How the hell...?” she muttered, putting the image aside to watch the video again. 

“That’s impossible,” he argued, slowly shaking his head. “I wasn’t in Vienna. I’ve been here. I’ve been with you.” 

“I know,” she nodded, her brow wrinkling down as she scrutinized the screen. “I don’t underst-“ Allison blinked, leaning back in her chair. Turning to Barnes, she realized, “My god. If this is the picture they plan on releasing-“ 

“But I didn’t do it,” he insisted. 

“Are you gonna walk into the police station and tell them that?” she dryly quipped. “I’m sure they’ll believe you.” He shot her a hard look and she rolled her eyes. “But if this isn’t you, who the hell is it?” 

“How the hell should I know?” he growled. 

“We have to figure this out, before they do,” she muttered, minimizing the video to get to the desktop. 

Frustrated and anxious, Barnes couldn’t sit still. He got up from the table, angrily pacing across the apartment. “How do we do that?” He pointed toward the laptop. “They’re gonna put that picture out all over the-“ 

“By keeping a level head,” she firmly cut in. 

“ _Level_ _head_?” he balked. “They’ve got a video of me-“ 

“Not of you,” Allison corrected. “Of someone who _looks_ like you.” 

“You wanna try explaining _that_ to the police?” he dared, cocking up a brow. 

Allison gave him a tired look. She shook her head, going back to her work, explaining, “We have everything we need. I just need a little time.” 

“Time?” he scoffed. “ _Time_? Your guy said they’re going to release that picture to the public-” He paused to check his watch.  “in less than four hours.” Allison didn’t respond. After a few moments of watching her work, he took a deep breath to calm himself enough to ask, “What are you doing?” 

“Using the stuff Shoo sent me,” she distractedly answered. “Facial recognition, gate analysis...” Allison looked to Bucky. “We use the software to do the easy part of proving that’s not you.” 

“If that’s the easy part, what's the hard part?” he scoffed. 

“Figuring out who the hell that is,” she said, flicking her fingertip on the image being digitally measured on her screen. 

...

Allison let the computer run its analysis. A half hour later, she had several metrics of comparison that she could use to prove the man in the video wasn’t Barnes, but they were no closer to being able to identify him. Bucky had resigned himself to the couch, turned into the corner to watch Allison work at the table. If he were any closer, his impatience overtook him. He sat up a little straighter, seeing Allison sigh and slump back in her chair.

“What is it?” he eagerly asked. 

“I’m thinking,” she said, still staring at the picture on her screen. 

“About what?” he pressed. 

“About how I’m gonna figure out who this guy is,” she answered, folding her arms and resting her chin against her upturned fist. “About what we have to do next.” She realized, “We need a plan B.” 

“For what?” he frowned, his brow creasing, a little suspicious. 

“For what happens when they publicly name you.” She put her hands to her face, muffling the sound of her whispered profanity before she raked her fingers up into her hair. She shook her head, letting her hands fall in her lap as she stared at the screen. “Three and a half hours,” she muttered. She sighed, seeing the drop in his shoulders. “I’m gonna figure this out,” she promised. “I just need more time.” 

“Time for what?” he growled. “In a couple hours, my face is gonna be plastered in every media outlet under the headline _terrorist_.” 

“I know,” she sighed, with a long blink, her head lolling away and back to her laptop screen. “Just let me think.” Studying the image of the unknown man on her monitor, she questioned under her breath, “How do I find you?”

Allison crossed her arms, her eyes taking in every pixel of the photo. She rubbed her hand across her chin, trying to work it out. _Who are you_? _Where did you come from_? _How did you get there_? Allison opened up the internet browser and looked up the location of the UN building and a satellite view of the area before and an aerial after the blast. _You didn’t just walk in with a bomb. You had to get it there, first. How_?

Looking back at the photographs from the crater outside the building, Allison sat forward, leaning her elbows on the table for a closer look. It occurred to her, “The bomb went off in the media staging area.” She moved the cursor around, clicking, dragging, and zooming in images. “All the other vehicles nearby, or what’s left of them, are news vans.” 

“So?” Bucky shook his head.

“So, he either faked media credentials and walked the bomb in himself, unnoticed,” Allison suggested, “which you’d have to be Houdini to pull off that shit with UN security, or the bomb was placed on a van while it was still at the station and the reporters drove it in themselves without knowing.” Allison blinked. “Shit.” 

“What?” 

“That’s it,” she said, going back to the surveillance video for a second look. “That’s how he did it.” She shook her head at herself. “It was right in front of my face, the whole damn time.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky scowled. 

“This video is from the channel’s garage,” she explained, actually reading the lettering on the vans. “For fuck’s sake,” she chided herself for her fixation on the man and not the details in the background of the video. “He planted the bomb in one of the news vans in the garage. We know which station it is, which means we know where this video is from.” Allison sat up, pushing her chair back from the table to stand. “I need my stuff.” 

Barnes got to his feet as well. “What stuff?” he asked, confusedly watching her grab her jacket. “Where are you going?” 

“I need the rest of the equipment from Shoo,” she told him, hurriedly closing the laptop and tucking it under her arm. “If I can tap into local CCTV, traffic cams, or whatever in Vienna near the news channel’s garage, I should see him coming or going. If I can find him, maybe I can get a plate from a car, or something.”

“And if you can’t?” he pressed. “It was hours ago.”

“I can still run the gate analysis,” she told him. “If he walks in front of any camera, I’ll know.” 

“You think he’s even still in town?” he balked. 

Allison stopped, her mouth hanging open without a good answer. She shrugged, letting her hand fall with a soft slap at her side. “I don’t know,” she said. 

“Why would he stick around?” Bucky questioned. “If he-“ 

“I don’t know!” she snapped. Allison shook her head, conceding, “But it’s the only thing I have to try.” Glancing at her watch again, she warned him, “In three hours, the whole world is going to be looking for you. You wanted to know what plan B was? ...Plan B is, we fuckin’ run. That’s all it is. If I can’t find this guy, that’s all we’ve got.” 

“Run?” he shook his head.

“You wanna try and explain how we know it wasn’t you?” she offered. “Wanna try and explain HYDRA’s brainwashing, and how everything you did for them as a programmable assassin,  _doesn’t_ make you a candidate for exactly this type of shit?” 

“We know it wasn’t me, because I was with _you_ ,” he pointed out. 

“ _Me_?” she derisively snorted, gesturing up at herself. “A disavowed SHIELD operator who’s been playing dead since her Division was exposed to the world as HYDRA?” Her chin lifted, as she put up a hand to vow and airily mocked, “I swear, he didn’t do it, because he was literally in bed with me last night.” She sarcastically nodded. “Yeah. That sounds reliable.”

Barnes huffed, his exhale inexplicably insulted by her snideness. “That’s not what I meant,” he growled. 

“What do you want me to say?” she begged. “That’s the truth. Nobody’s gonna listen to either of us. We’ve been on the run for almost two years, killing and blowing shit up. We’re outside anyone’s laws, regardless of who we did it to or why. Some new Bonnie and Clyde, that’s what they’re gonna call us. Nobody wants to hear what we have to say, because of who they already think we are.” She stopped, frowning at Bucky dropping his head to shake. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “It sucks, but that’s our reality.” 

He shook his head again. “No,” he thought out loud, “it’s not.” Bucky lifted his head to see her. “Not yours, anyway.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s mine,” he swept his head. Waving a hand toward the computer in her hands, he explained, “I’m the one in that video. Nobody even knows you’re alive. Your friend, he can help get you back in. You can go to Steve and tell him the truth about you. You can go home. But, me?” He shook his head, knowing, “I’m always gonna be the Winter Soldier. Plan B is _I_ run.” 

“No,” Allison firmly said, and without hesitation. “I said we’re not splitting up again, and we’re not.” 

“It’s safer that way,” he insisted.

“It’s not. There’s no guarantee I could go home, just like that,” she argued, “or that you could make it alone.” 

“I did it before,” he stubbornly reminded her. “I can do it again.” 

“It’s _safer_ if we stick together,” she said. “You watch my back and I watch yours. And when we find the man in that video-“

“There’s no guarantee you’ll find this guy,” he pointed out. 

Her face pinched in disbelief. “ _Really_?” she scoffed. “After all we’ve managed to do...you think we can’t find _one_ man?” 

“If we had a few days, maybe,” Bucky conceded, “but, Allison, there’s _no_ _time.”_

There was a pause between them, before Allison softly spoke up, “Okay.” She nodded slowly. “Okay, fine.” She checked her watch. “There’s a little time left. You- You start packing then.” Allison gathered up her phone and keys. “I’m gonna get the rest of my things and I’m gonna find this son of a bitch.” 

Barnes nodded, but with a heavy heart. He should have been relieved she was listening to reason, but he was saddened at the thought of leaving her again.

“It won’t take you long,” she figured, taking a look around, and he nodded again. “I’ll meet you back here, in a couple hours.” 

“Allison, _no_ ,” he protested, angered all over again. 

“You get things ready here,” she instructed, turning for the door. “When I get back, we’ll see where we stand.”

He reached out, grabbing her by the arm. “I won’t be here, when you get back,” he warned. 

Allison looked between his hand at her elbow and up at him. “Look,” she tiredly sighed, “if I have to find this guy  _and_ find you, it’s going to take all week.” He scowled at her, but Allison just grinned. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She turned out of his grip. “Give me a couple hours. I’ll come back and, if I don’t have anything, we’ll get the guns and the rest of our gear and we’ll get out of town. We’ll head east, move along the coast and figure out some place off the grid to lay low ‘til we get a handle on this.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he complained. “You never listen.” 

“I do,” she assured him, with a small nod. “If you ever listened...I think you’d hear we’re both saying the same thing.” She flashed a shy grin, dropping her eyes from his, before she turned to go. “Two hours,” she reminded him. 

“Two hours,” he quietly agreed, watching her pull the door shut behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

June 2016

Allison put a hurry in her step, crossing the street and catching the time on her watch. She was just down the street from the apartment, but only a couple of minutes away from being late. She was eager to tell Barnes what she had found. 

It didn’t take long for her to work her way into Vienna’s traffic monitoring system, tweaking one of the programs she had gotten from Schumacher. Holed up in the storage space she was renting to hide their extra guns and equipment, there were no distractions while she worked. She found a view of the outside of the news channel’s garage and ran the video backward to find out when the pseudo-Bucky arrived. 

The man had shown up about 10 hours before the bombing. He arrived by a taxi down the street, with a medium sized suitcase. Unfortunately, the car wasn’t close enough to get a clear view of, let alone a license plate. To find out where the man came from, Allison began checking city cameras from one hour prior to the man’s arrival at the garage, simultaneously running a search with the gate analysis program. She eventually got a hit and saw the man coming out of what Google later confirmed was a hotel. 

Allison focused her search on the street in front of the hotel, trying to figure out when the man arrived. The computer did its magic and she found him arriving by taxi only 18 hours before the bombing. Allison grabbed a frame from the video, cropped and cleaned it up to get her first look at the bomber. Figuring the man wasn’t local to Vienna, she reset her programs to run the facial recognition software and to compare and search it against video feeds from transit stations and the airport, trying to find where he came from.

She studied the man in the video, for a moment. He didn’t really look like Barnes. His hair was a couple shades lighter and definitely shorter, but the metrics she had from the news station garage said it was him. She knew as well as anyone in the business that it wasn’t hard to disguise oneself.

It didn’t take long to get a hit at the airport. The man had flown in from Berlin. And that was as close as Allison could get to him with what she had. What Schumacher has sent her would work around and defeat the systems in Vienna. She needed different codes and tech for her equipment to speak to the German systems. She copied the picture to her phone, before shutting down her computer and locking up after herself.

As she walked, Allison checked her phone. There hadn’t been an update about the bombing for about an hour. She grinned to herself, happy to see the photo of the fake Bucky hadn’t been released yet. Her good mood didn’t last long, when she realized they needed a new plan. They had a lead, but what she had wasn’t necessarily substantial enough to call the Task Force off Bucky, yet. She would have to give them at least a name, if not hand over the mystery man himself.

She considered they were relatively safe in Bucharest. They had only been in the small apartment for about a week. She and Barnes hadn’t seen many neighbors and kept to themselves. He could hole up in the apartment, while she went to track down the bomber in Germany. Allison snorted, thinking of the arguments Bucky would have about why her plan was a bad one, but there weren’t any other options. Barnes needed to stay out of the public view, once the photo was released. 

“Hey,” she said, shutting and locking the door behind her. 

“What’d you find?” he eagerly asked, on his feet and taking a couple steps forward from where he’d been in the kitchen. 

“It’s not much,” she admitted, slipping her jacket down off her arms, “but it’s a place to start. I tracked him down to a hotel in Vienna, the day before the bombing. Facial recognition picked him up at the airport, coming off a flight from Berlin.” 

“Who is he?” 

Allison shook her head. “I don’t know,” she told him.

“So, what about Berlin?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she repeated, disappointed to be saying it again and going to sit on the couch. “The programs I have can do only so much.” 

“Wait. That’s it?” he pressed, his brow wrinkling down in frustration. 

Allison nodded her head. “For me, yeah. The only other thing I can do is pass this on to Shoo. I’m limited by what I have here, but if I give him the photo, he has the resources to run it through the databases I’d need for comparison. There’s just one problem.” 

Bucky shook his head. “What’s that?” 

“If I give him the picture,” she explained, “he’ll have to give it to the CIA, which means they could find the guy first and we lose our chance to ask that son of a bitch any questions for ourselves.” Barnes took in and let out a slow, deep breath. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m curious why he picked you, of all people, to dress up as, instead of just putting on a mask.” 

“There's got to be something else we can do,” he insisted, his worries not really relieved by what she was telling him. “They’re going to release that picture soon.” 

“I know,” she sighed, dropping her head back on the couch cushion behind her. 

He sat down on the couch, checking, “Is this Plan B, then? Do we run?”

Allison slowly shook her head, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” She sat up, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and fold her hands together. “So close, yet so far away, huh?” she smirked, with a humorless snort. “We know what this guy really looks like, but we-“

She stopped, her head cocking to the side in thought, as Bucky asked, “What?” 

“We know what this guy really looks like,” she repeated. Allison turned to look at Barnes, realizing, “ _We_ do...but they might not.” She smacked her hand to his arm, excited by the thought she just had, as she stood up. “That’s how we do it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky began, confused as his head turned to watch her cross the room to get her phone from the table, “but how we do what?” 

Allison was already dialing, when she put a finger up for him to wait. She chewed on her lip as she waited eagerly for the call to be picked up. Bucky shifted where he sat at the end of the couch to see her better. 

“Found him already?” Schumacher wondered, sounding like he was only halfway joking. 

“Not quite,” Allison smugly grinned for his optimism. “I’ve got a lead, but I need a little help.” 

“What do you need?” 

“I have a picture,” she began, her gaze set on Bucky’s as she spoke. “I need it put through facial recognition at Langley.” 

“A picture of who?” Schumacher pressed, his curiosity clearly piqued. 

Allison smiled at her own cleverness, telling him, “I think there might be an accomplice. I got a photo of a guy I think helped the bomber.” 

“Are you sure?” he wondered. “CIA’s confident this is a lone wolf. You remember DC, right? They’ve ID’d the guy in the video as James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. They’re gonna put out the name with the picture.” 

“I’m sure,” she insisted. “Can you do me the favor?” 

There was a pause, before Schumacher sighed and answered, “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Keep this between you and me?” she hoped. “Remember, there’s a six-figure pay day in it, if I find Barnes first. I don’t want to give away my lead. I’ll pay for the help. Maybe 20 grand to the guy who runs my photo and doesn’t ask any questions? Take it out of my account? With your usual fee, of course.”

Schumacher chuckled. “I’ve got a guy who can help. Send me the photo and I’ll get him on it.” 

“Thanks, Shoo,” Allison grinned. “I’ll send it now.” 

Allison disconnected the call and opened the gallery on her phone to forward the picture to Schumacher, while Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “That’s brilliant.” 

“Thank you,” she beamed.

”Now, we wait,” he said. 

“Actually...” Allison hesitantly said, pocketing her phone, “there’s more to my idea.” 

His brow knit down, warily watching her as she pulled out a chair at the table to sit down. “What’s that?” 

“Langley’s gonna work their magic to get me a name,” she began, “so someone has to be in a position to track this guy, once he’s identified.”

He saw where she was going with her plan and he swept his head, “Allison, no.” 

“I’m going to Germa-“ 

“I said, _no_ ,” he insisted, getting to his feet. 

“We’ll _lose_ him, if we don’t close the gap,” she argued, standing up as well. 

“Then _we_ ,” he emphasized, pointing back and forth between them, “go together.” 

“No,” Allison shook her head, turning to go into the bathroom. “Absolutely not.”

She grabbed her backpack off the shelf and started packing, as Bucky protested from the other room, his arguments getting louder until he was standing in the doorway. “We don’t know who this guy is, or who he’s working for. It might not just be him you’re going after. You stop to consider that?” Barnes dared, his brow knit down unhappily. “What if he’s got a partner, or more than one? What if it  _is_ HYDRA? Have you thought of that?” 

“Yes,” she told him, grabbing her toothbrush and pointedly looking his reflection in the bathroom mirror ahead of her in the eye, “I have.” 

“ _And_?” he challenged. 

“And if it’s something I can’t handle, I’ll give the information to the Task Force,” Allison said, zipping her bag shut. Turning for the bathroom door, she frowned, seeing Barnes standing in the way, his arms crossed and expression hard. 

“You can’t do this by yourself,” he told her. 

“Just like you can’t make it on your own, right?” she cocked up a brow, turning her shoulder to push past him. 

He scowled at her, moving to follow her over to the table as she packed away her laptop in her bag. “ _You_ said, it’s safer if we stick together,” he pointed out. 

Allison exhaled heavily at the reminder, closing her bag again. “Not anymore,” she told him, setting her gaze up on his. “Now, the safest place for _you_ is here. That picture is going to be released, if it’s not already. Everyone’s going to be looking for you. Nobody’s looking for me.” Allison slung her backpack onto her shoulder, telling him, “Lay low. I’m gonna charter a flight to Berlin. Maybe by the time I get there Shoo will have something for me.” She turned for the front door, adding, “I’ll send a message, as soon as I find anything.” 

He started after her. “Allison, _wait_ ,” he snapped.

With her hand on the door, she looked back, tired of the argument as she sighed, “This is the plan, until I have a better one.” She let go of the door to face him and challenge, “Do you know what else is in Berlin?”

He gave a frustrated shrug and shook his head. “What?”

“The Joint Counter Terrorism Centre,” she firmly told him. “The headquarters for the people who are going to put that photo out any minute now; the people who _aren’t_ interested in clearing your name. They will find you and they will lock you away so deep in a black site I will never find you again.” 

She paused, a pang of guilt twisting her gut for the worried look she saw in his eyes. “Berlin is the lion’s den,” she earnestly warned. “Do you understand? I have to do this on my own.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I understand,” he reluctantly nodded. “Just-“ Bucky sighed, his shoulders falling, resigned. “Be careful, okay?” 

She flashed him an appreciative smile and gave him a nod. “You, too.” Allison pulled open the door. “Make sure your phone is charged. I’ll contact you as soon as possible.”

Barnes watched after her, staring at the door, even after it latched and her footsteps disappeared down the stairs outside. He carded his hand into his hair, giving it a small tug in frustration. “ _Fuck_ ,” he quietly complained, turning to pan his gaze around the apartment, lost for what to do next, but certain he should have reached out for her one last time. 

Allison had stopped at the bank and made a substantial withdrawal. Cash on hand made bribing airport personnel easy. She was able to charter a private plane to Berlin under the guise of a medical emergency flight. On the way, she reached out to Schumacher for the programs she would need to hack and start mining the video systems in Germany. He hadn’t heard back from his friend about the photo she had forwarded him yet, but his man had accepted the job and would let him know when he found something. 

There was a drop arranged for her. A courier met Allison at the airport, passing off an envelope with another set of CDs containing the programs Allison needed. She hailed a taxi and took the driver’s recommendation for the best Internet cafe in town. Allison got a cup of coffee and a sandwich and set herself up in a corner of the room to install her new programs and get to work. She stole glances at the television on the wall, while she waited. 

The Task Force had released the photo from the Vienna garage hours ago, as warned. She had sent a message through Instagram to Bucky to say she had made it to Germany. He assured her he was safe and staying in the apartment, until she told him their next move. 

Within an hour, Allison had access to the city’s traffic cameras and had started her search for the bomber. The 24-hour news channel on the cafe TV flashed the fake Bucky’s picture on the screen a couple times or more every hour, but most of Allison’s attention was on the screen of her computer, waiting. Without any update from Schumacher in the last few hours, Allison reluctantly closed her laptop. The sun had long since set, the cafe was getting ready to close, and the stress of the situation was beginning to take its toll. Allison got a hotel room for the night, leaving her computer to run while she tried to get a few hours sleep. She sent Barnes an update saying the same and that she would message again when she woke up.

In the morning, Allison had a message waiting for her on her phone. Schumacher’s man had come through. Shoo had sent her a dossier on a man named Col. Helmut Zemo, a former Sokovian intelligence officer and commander of an elite Sokovian paramilitary tactical unit. “EKO Scorpion,” Allison muttered to herself, as she read. “Fuckin’ hell. Not these guys.”

EKO Scorpion was an elite military unit, like the SEALs or Delta Force were to the US military. Like STRIKE, the covert kill squad was efficient at what they did for a living, albeit with a distinct lack of legality, if all the rumors were to be believed. The Colonel certainly had the experience and background to carry out the Vienna bombing, but nothing in the classified military record said why he would. Zemo retired from the service last year, with an honorable discharge, and record of him essentially stopped there. 

Allison showered and checked out of her hotel just before sunrise. She got breakfast and sent another message to Barnes to say she had found “our friend’s name”, waiting for the Internet cafe to open again. She was one of the first customers through the door, getting a quiet corner in the back to resume her search. Allison began sifting through hits from the facial recognition and gate analysis programs from overnight, trying to piece together a map or pattern to find the Colonel. He had been in Berlin for at least three days, that she’d found so far, before the bombing. It stood to reason he might still be around. 

After two hours of staring at her screen, Allison sat back in her chair and stretched. She checked her phone and frowned. Barnes hadn’t responded to her last message. She shrugged it off, considering the time difference, Bucky may have checked his app before she was up to send her message. She put her phone aside for later and glanced up at the television to see the media still showing the misidentified picture from Vienna. She did a double take, realizing the banner under the photo had changed. Her jaw slacked open reading: Vienna Bomber Captured. 

She couldn’t hear the television, but Allison quickly opened up her browser and saw all the major news outlets were reporting Bucky had been captured earlier that morning after a chase through the city streets. Details were limited, but some articles cited witness accounts that some of the Avengers were involved in the arrest. A two line statement from the Task Force simply said Barnes had been arrested in Bucharest, after a civilian tip about his location, and that no civilians had been injured, despite a major crash that had occurred during the pursuit. 

Allison slumped back in her seat, her arms folded across herself and hand covering her mouth. “Shit,” she breathed out, her fist closing in frustration that there wasn’t more information available. She could assume Bucky would be taken to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, but she could just as easily see him being moved directly to a government black site. Her stomach twisted, worry telling her to go back to Bucharest and see if she could find a lead to track him down, but logic telling her to stay on Zemo’s trail. Barnes would be pissed to hear she let the Colonel go, even if it was only to rescue him.

Just as Allison realized she had to regroup and figure this latest problem into the equation, her laptop gave a small chirp. She sat up, clicking on the flashing text box in the bottom of her screen that advised: Target Located. The window expanded to show a man walking down a city street from a hotel. Allison typed the street name into her phone, before muttering a curse at the man getting into a taxi. At least she knew where he was staying. 

Allison stole occasional looks up to see if there was anything new being reported on the television, knowing they would give an update before the printed media could. The rest of her attention was devoted to trying to get a license plate off Zemo’s taxi so she could track the car through the city. Allison glanced at the TV again and muttered, “You gotta be kidding me.” 

Next to the Task Force’s photo captured from the garage of the fake Bucky was a second one. A composite sketch. Any other day, there would have been complimentary jokes to be made for its actual likeness, but under the circumstances, Allison was less than enthused to see her face on TV. She wondered for a moment how long the sketch had been publicized, but her attention was drawn back to her computer by another chirp saying the software had located Zemo’s taxi and was tracking the vehicle. 

Allison opened a map of Berlin and put it in a window beside the one following the taxi across traffic cameras. She traced her fingertip over the screen, finding the street Zemo’s car was last on and comparing it to the location of the hotel he’d left. He was generally headed south and Allison’s eyes drifted over the map, trying to anticipate where he was going. 

“I’ll be damned,” she softly marveled. 

There was nothing of particular interest along Zemo’s route, until the next traffic camera near the River Spree. Allison waited for the next alert from the tracking program to confirm her suspicion. Zemo looked to be headed for the Berlin government complex, home of the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre, but she didn't understand why. 

She scanned the room over the top of her laptop, catching a man staring and a woman hurriedly looking away, motioning for him to do the same. She caught a curious look from the employee behind the counter and knew it was time to go. Allison opened a new text box, putting in a code to execute a virus on the computer. She grabbed a damp, dirty towel from a bus cart near her table and wiped every surface of her computer and table, erasing her prints while the virus irreparably destroyed the hard drive. She left the rag and computer behind, grabbing her phone and lowering her head on the way out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Allison made a quick decision to turn left out of the cafe, hearing a car skid to a stop to her right. She caught a reflection in the glass over an advertisement on a bus stop shelter, spying the man from the cafe pointing down the street after her and talking to a pair of police officers. She paused at the corner, turning to stop on the far side of a group of pedestrians waiting to cross the street. Allison took her phone out of her pocket, hurriedly popping its case off as the light changed and her group began to cross the street. 

Flexing the phone a few times in her hands, Allison cracked the smart phone in the middle, twisting it until she could pull the front and back of the phone apart. By the time she’d reached the next curb, she had picked out the phone’s SIM card and dropped it and the broken device into the storm drain. She kept walking, using the people moving with her to check over her shoulder and see the two policemen back on the other corner looking up and down the street for her.

Allison lifted a ball cap off the handle of a backpack of an oblivious student beside her. Adjusting the hat on her head, Allison stopped at the next corner with the crowd and stole another look around. Down the street, Allison spotted a pair of TM-170s slowing moving up the road and she knew the Task Force had been alerted with the police. Foot traffic stopped at the next corner and Allison turned down the street to keep moving, hearing orders being called out for two man teams to start searching the area. 

“Entchuldigen sie...”  “Hör sofort auf.”

Allison ignored the polite but cautious orders to stop from the men coming up behind her.

“Ich sagte, halt!” 

Allison stiffened, fighting all of her instincts and muscle memory to strike at the uniformed man who grabbed her arm. Instead, she put on a startled expression and pretended not to have known anyone was speaking to her, raking her eyes up and down him. She played it up, protesting in French for the accostment. “Laisse moi partir. Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire?” 

When the Task Force soldier began to respond in French, explaining he had called for her to stop, Allison sighed, her eyes turning to the sky. “Of course you speak French,” she grumbled, just before she grabbed the man by the front of his gear and yanked him down, driving her knee into his chest.

The man doubled over, coughing for his breath. His partner beside him moved to draw his pistol, but he was too close to Allison. She stepped in to him, trapping his gun in its holster with her left hand rammed down over his right, as she speared her right into his throat, following through with an elbow across his jaw. He fell to the ground and Allison turned her attention back to the first soldier, who had recovered enough to grab her from behind, slipping an arm around her neck and the other across her chest. 

Allison took a step out to the side, lowering her center of gravity and forcing the Task Force operator to shift his own position to maintain his hold of her. But Allison twisted, reaching down to grab the pant leg from both sides of his knee, jerking his leg up as she threw her weight back and took them both backward to the ground. She rolled out, breaking free of his hold and scrambling to her feet. The other officers nearby had caught on to the commotion and were running to their partners’ aid. 

She had no choice but to make a run for it. Dodging pedestrians on the street, Allison could hear the stampede of boots and jostling gear coming after her. Her flight was short lived, as she rounded the next corner and was taken to the ground by a diving tackle from a Task Force soldier who was waiting to cut her off. The wind was knocked out of her and Allison didn’t have an opportunity to react, as a pair of operators forcefully rolled her to her stomach while her tackler’s knee went to her back and his hand to push and turn her face away from them. Her arms were wrestled behind her and Allison was handcuffed, while the soldiers barked for her not to resist and warned she was under arrest.

One of the Task Force’s vehicles pulled up on the street and she was yanked to her feet. She was belted into a seat in the back of the armored personnel carrier, while a handful of operators climbed in behind her. The back door of the vehicle was latched shut and one of the men called for the driver to move out. Allison settled into her seat, with an aggravated “Fuck.” under her breath. 

Allison guessed only ten minutes or so had passed, before the vehicle came to a stop and the men around her got to their feet. The back door opened and all but two of the men dismounted. The leftover pair unbuckled Allison’s seat belt and pulled her to her feet to walk to the back of the APC. Allison jumped down from the truck’s doorway to the polished concrete floor of what looked like some kind of receiving or dock area. She surveyed her surroundings, noting the security at some doors and cameras on every angle, as she was led around the side of the vehicle and down a corridor to a waiting elevator. 

When the car stopped several floors up, Allison’s armed escort took her down the hall. They went through a pair of double doors to enter what Allison took to be some kind of control center or TOC. They turned a corner and the room widened to have a glass walled conference room in the middle. As she was paraded past, sharp movement in her periphery drew her attention and Allison turned her head to see Steve Rogers briskly walking around the end of the conference room’s table, the chair he apparently had just left rolling away behind him. 

She looked over her shoulder, as the escort kept her moving. Rogers’ jaw slacked open, his initial expression of disbelief turning to worried confusion on his face as he was stopped by the wall of the room, his hand splayed on the glass as he watched her be led away through another door. Before the door closed behind her, she saw a man she didn’t know slowly rise from his chair, looking curiously between her and Steve, as Steve turned back into the room and seemed to yell something at the man in a suit that had just walked into the conference room from the door at the far end of the room. 

In the next hall, the soldiers beside Allison tugged on her arms to signal her to stop. Another soldier from her detail came around them to open the door to an interview room. Allison was nudged to go in. She obeyed and was directed to the chair on the far side of the table in the middle of the room. Her handcuffs were removed and she was told to sit. When she did, two men moved to the corners behind her to stand guard, while the others left the room and shut the door. Allison waited in silence, memorizing each chip in the paint and smudge on the two-way mirror in front of her. 

“This is JCTC, yeah?” she spoke up, after a few minutes, turning her chin to see the soldier behind her from the side of her eye. When there wasn’t an answer, Allison explained, “Well, if nobody else is asking questions, I might as well try.” She looked over her other shoulder. “How ‘bout you? German Task Force, right? ...No? You one of the CIA guys?” He didn’t answer and Allison’s head lolled back to center, dryly saying, “You guys are fun.”

“They’re trained not to answer you,” a voice from a speaker above her said. 

She quirked up a brow at the mirror. “Do they do ‘shake hands’ and ‘roll over’, too?” Allison twisted in her seat to sarcastically smile at both of the guards. “Just kidding. You guys are doing a great job.”

“Ms. Addams-“ 

“It didn’t really take you guys this long to ID me, did it?” she cut in. “You should have had me made before I hit the elevator. If you’re running that slow, I know a guy who could get you a deal on an upgrade...” 

Allison picked up on the subtle rise of irritation in the unseen voice, when it started again. “Ms. Addams-“

“Lieutenant,” she corrected. 

“Ms. Addams,” the speaker insisted, “you’re being detained for your connection to James Buchanan Barnes.” 

“Never heard of her,” Allison said. 

To her left, the mechanical lock on the door opened. “Told you that’s not gonna work with her,” Natasha said, with a tired look at the mirror as she moved to stand in front of Allison at the table. 

Allison tipped her head and eyed Romanoff, admittedly surprised to see her, as the Russian studied her in kind. “Long time no see,” Allison finally said, before shifting her attention to the blonde that followed Natasha in before the door shut. It took her a moment to place her, but Allison recognized her from the visits she had made to Steve’s apartment. “Well, hello, _neighbor_.”

“This is Special Agent Carter,” Natasha said, pulling out the other chair in the room to sit down at the table. “CIA. She’s with the Task Force. But more importantly...where have you been, Allison?” 

“Here and there,” she casually answered. 

Romanoff frowned, telling her, “This is serious, Al. They know from the neighbors in Bucharest that you were with Barnes.” 

“I saw Steve,” Allison mentioned. “Who else is here?” 

Natasha grinned, with a knowing cock of her head. “I’m not helping you, until you start helping us.” 

“Who’s us?” she asked. “You working for the CIA now?” 

Natasha let out an unamused exhale. “Since the bombing, the Avengers have been helping the Tas-“ 

“Jesus, Nat,” Allison realized, her face falling with her shoulders. “You signed, didn’t you?” 

Natasha’s posture stiffened slightly and her jaw set forward. “We’ve been helping the Task Force search for Barnes,” she continued, and Allison had her answer. 

The voice from the speaker returned to announce, “He’s here. We’re ready to begin.” 

Natasha turned her head to nod her understanding toward the mirror and moved to stand. “Who’s here?” Allison asked, her eyes following Natasha as she stood. 

“The psychologist,” she answered. “They’re going to interview Barnes now.” Natasha paused, looking back to Allison and raising a brow. “What’s he going to say, Al?” 

“Natasha,” Allison began, standing up from her chair, “I need to talk to Steve.” 

Behind her, Allison heard the safeties click off the rifles her guards were holding and Carter put up a hand in some kind of signal to them, as Romanoff told her, “Sit down, Allison.” She gave Allison a once over, quietly adding, before she left, “Steve can’t help you now.” 

The door opened and locked behind Carter and Natasha, even as Allison begged, “Nat, wait. Please.” Allison sank back to her seat, letting out a frustrated and slow exhale. At least she knew Barnes was there.

For the next ten minutes, Allison sat slouched back comfortably in her chair, her gaze set straight ahead on the mirror in front of her and her fingers drumming on the table, waiting. She wondered how long it would be before the voice from the speaker came back. She’d settle for Carter coming back in, if it meant someone telling her something. Instead, Allison drummed, curious to see how long it would take for someone to crack. 

“Would you stop that?” the man on her left growled, and Allison turned in her seat to grin at him. 

“Local boy,” she decided, hearing his accent. “Thought you were trained not to speak.” The man gave her a derisive scoff and Allison straightened her face, mockingly telling him, “Szet. Bleibe. Guter hund.” 

The room went dark and Allison turned her eyes up to the ceiling. A few seconds later, an emergency lamp came on above the door. The guards trained their weapons on her, obviously just as surprised by the power outage. She put up her empty hands, promising, “Wasn’t me.”

The man on her right sent his partner to the door to see what had happened. Allison turned around to watch. The soldier went out into the hall, while the second guard moved around the edge of the room to put himself between Allison and the door. Allison waited, listening carefully to the dull voices among the flashing red warning lights in the hall. Someone speaking outside took the second guard’s attention, pulling his gaze toward the hall and Allison saw her chance. 

Using the shadow in the room to her advantage, Allison snuck up on the man, grabbing his rifle sling across his chest to jerk him forward and throwing a jab into his nose. The guard crumpled to the floor and his startled colleagues rushed the door. Allison stepped back and to the side of the doorway, kicking into the hip of the first man through the door and sending him stumbling away and off balance. She lunged at the second man coming in, using her momentum to swing him around, off balance, and into the wall. The air was knocked out of him and Allison threw an uppercut into his jaw. She grabbed the dazed man and shoved him into the only man still on his feet, clearing the doorway for her to run. 

Allison figured she had seconds before the alarm was raised, maybe longer if the power outage effected their communications. She raced down the hall, away from the way she’d been escorted, knowing she would run right into a room for of Task Force personnel. She saw from the windows in the hallway that she was on an upper floor. Allison spotted an emergency stairway and crashed through the door.

Hurrying down the stairs, Allison came to a sudden stop, hearing voices from below her in the stairwell. She went back up to the last landing and cracked the door there to peek down the hall. The sign on the wall said she was on the second floor. She let silence be her guide, slipping through the door and heading down the hall and away from the voices in the other direction. At the next intersection, Allison was forced to her right, hearing the sounds of voices and boots running from her left and behind her.

She pushed through a pair of double doors marked for the cafeteria, thinking she might be able to wait there for the people in the hall to pass by. Seeing uninformed men headed her way, she closed the door behind her and turned to find another exit. Allison was frozen in her tracks by what she saw. Several uniformed security forces officers were scattered about, laid out on the floor of the dining hall. Among the bodies and overturned furniture, she spotted Tony Stark, seemingly unconscious, like the others. In the middle of it all, Allison saw Bucky. 

He was wrapped up, grappling with Natasha Romanoff, her legs locked around his neck as she drove her clasped hands down into his head. He grabbed her, pulling her back from him and slamming her down on a table. His metal hand went to her throat, just as Allison felt someone grab her from behind. 

Allison spun, a little off balance from the strong hand at her shoulder that had pushed her aside and into the waiting arms of a soldier. The man who pushed her away marched up to Barnes, kicking him in the side of his ribs and breaking his attention off Natasha. Allison watched, as Bucky turned, blocking more kicks from the man in black, before landing a punch in his chest that sent the man tumbling to the ground. 

Allison had seen this before. The rigidness in his frame; the sharp movements and precision of violence; and the hardened look on his face. She had been transfixed by those features, watching the recordings of the Winter Soldier training sessions in the stolen HYDRA files, struck by the stark differences in the man on film and what she saw before her everyday in Bucky. Allison recognized, somehow, someone had triggered Barnes.

“No!” Allison called out, seeing Barnes turn to walk up the stairs and the man in black right himself to quickly follow. “Barnes, wait!”

The arms wrapped around her were strong, pinning her arms to her sides. Allison spotted another officer rushing over to help her captor. She lost sight of Barnes and the man, but knew she had to follow and figure out how to stop Bucky. Allison threw her head backward into the face of the man holding her. As he swore in surprise and pain, she used his hold of her as leverage, striking out her leg to the side to kick the next officer who was reaching for her. The guard stumbled back, clutching a hand at his gut and swinging the other arm in the air for his balance.

The man holding Allison recovered. He tightened his arms around her, leaning back to take her feet off the floor and twisting to take her to the ground with him. He ended up on top of her, wrestling to pull her arms behind her back, as the second soldier came back over to help. 

Allison wrenched an arm free, throwing her elbow back and up into the jaw of the man on top of her. It gave her the second she needed to roll over, plant her feet, and trap his head and arm, pulling him in to lift her hip and roll out of his mount to seat herself over him. She sat up, drawing back and sending a jarring blow across the man’s face hard enough to make his head bounce once off the floor. 

But Allison wasn’t free yet. The other soldier was on her, his arm hooked around her neck and jerking her up to drag her off of his partner. Allison wrapped her hand over her fist, thrusting her elbow back into his ribs. The soldier bent forward and Allison reached behind over her shoulder, grabbing him by the back of his head and neck and twisting to throw him over her hip. The man fell to his back, his breath knocked out of him, and Allison drew back, sending her heel across his jaw. The soldier’s head rocked for a moment, before he was still. Allison pushed the loose hair away from her face and swallowed a breath.

Her head snapped up, her attention pulled by the heavy sound of a body falling. Across the room, the man in black was down, thrown or having fallen from the top of the staircase. Above him, Barnes planted a hand on the railing and leapt over the side of the staircase, jumping back down to the floor and menacingly walking over to the man in black who’d attacked him. 

“Stop!” Allison yelled and it was enough to break his focus for just a moment and stop his advance on the man, who hadn’t moved since he fell. “Bucky, no!”

 _Shit_. She took a step backward, realizing she’d just identified herself as his next target. Barnes seemed to give a second thought to the man in black, glancing down to see him at his feet again, before his weight shifted and he made a move to cross the room, walking straight toward Allison, his hard gaze set on her like an animal on prey. Allison crouched down, grabbing for the pistol on the gunbelt of the security officer closest to her, breaking its retention and twisting it free of its holster. 

She stood back up, taking aim at Barnes, as she began to back away. His march toward her was interrupted by a German officer coming to and grabbing at Barnes’ arm. Allison cocked her head, as she considered her options and Barnes threw down the soldier. She knew places she could shoot to wound, just to immobilize him, hoping the shock of pain might rouse him. But then they'd still be in the custody and at the mercy of the German government.

Part of her regretted having helped Bucky remove the failsafe command HYDRA had implanted all those years ago. He was barely 20 meters away, when she had an idea. She thumbed off the safety, adjusting her aim to his thigh and readying herself to shoot, hoping she remembered something she’d read in the Winter Soldier files correctly. Allison took a breath, her gun pointed at Barnes still looming over a security officer he’d just knocked to the ground.  _Please, god, let this work._  

“Otstavit', soldat!” [as you were, soldier]

Time seemed to have slowed. Allison heard nothing but her own breath falling out of her, as Bucky turned over his shoulder to see her. The furrowed lines in his brow began to disappear and his eyes widened. He took an unsteady step backward, looking from the bodies at his feet and back to Allison, with an alarmed realization coming to his face. 

“Allison?” he gasped, his chest rising and falling heavily as his breath sped up with his pulse, a new fearfulness and confusion in his eyes. 

She looked beyond him, seeing Steve and his friend standing petrified at the other end of the large dining hall, jaws slacked and brows wrinkled down at what they’d just seen. Her gaze went back to Bucky and her stance broke. Parting her hands and holding the pistol away to the side, Allison opened her palms to show him she meant no harm, gently assuring him, “It's alright. It’s okay, now.”

There was a dampness in his eyes and his mouth hung open, as Barnes slowly shook his head. “My god...what happ-“ The question choked in his throat, as his legs gave out. He sank to his knees, feeling the cold tile floor under his palm as he put down his hand to steady himself, whispering, “What have I done?”

Allison moved quickly to meet him, stashing the gun behind her in the waistband of her jeans. She took a knee in front of him, cautiously reaching out a hand to his shoulder. She could see the tears welled in his red rimmed eyes and hear the breath rattle out of his chest. His metal hand came up, curling over her arm, as he finally lifted his eyes to hers. She’d never seen a man so purely frightened.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out, horrified at what he saw surrounding him; seeing the unconscious and broken bodies and hearing the pained moan of a man and the coughing of a woman wheezing for her breath somewhere in the room, knowing it was all by his hand. “What did I do?” 

“No,” she soothingly cooed, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders to hold him, when his head bowed and he crumpled down over his knees. “No,” she insisted. “This wasn’t you.”

He let go of her arm to cinch his arms around her. Allison shifted, folding a leg underneath her, as he practically fell into her. She turned her cheek down to rest on his head tucked under her throat, her hand cradling him there, as he clung to her. His mind was racing. He didn’t understand. Bucky knew what had just happened, but not how or why. His memories were hazy.

He remembered the psychologist having a book. _No_. He had _the_ book. He recalled the power going out and trying to concentrate, to fight to ignore what he was hearing and get away. Even as Allison was telling him it wasn’t his fault, images were coming back to him of fighting the security officers and others; of fighting Steve and shoving him into an open elevator shaft. 

“Allison, I-“ Barnes blinked hard, his head feeling heavy. “I don’t-“ 

“C’mon. We gotta go.” 

Allison looked up, startled by the hand pulling at her elbow. Steve nodded to insist, his hand turning to grasp her arm and pull her to her feet. Behind his shoulder, his friend stood watch, his head on a swivel as Allison tuned in to the sound of running footsteps and voices coming. She watched, as Rogers bent down to dip his head under Bucky’s arm, holding it over his shoulders to stand him up with him. But as soon as he was on his feet, Bucky fell into Steve’s side, completely dead weight. 

“Bucky?” Allison questioned, reaching out to lift his hanging head.

“Sam...” Rogers nodded to his friend, twisting to bend and lay Barnes over his shoulder to carry.

“This way,” Sam pointed, away from the boots coming and the voices yelling. 

Steve moved first, adjusting his hold around Barnes. Allison looked back, seeing Romanoff on her feet again, one hand holding her throat and the other on the table beside her to brace herself upright. She took a wobbling step forward and Allison hesitated for a moment, instinct drawing her to go back to her and help. Their eyes met, staring at each other, before Allison was snapped out of it by Sam. 

“Come on!” he called, holding his hand out to her, as he stuttered a step to wait for her. 

Allison took his cue. She gave a small nod to Natasha, before she turned on her heel and took off in a sprint after the others.


	12. Chapter 12

Allison peeked around the doorway of the old factory, after Steve left her to go check the perimeter. She had summed up the last two years, as best she could in the few minutes of peace they’d had since escaping the JCTC. The Captain was stoic as ever listening to her, but she could still sense his wariness and suspicions. Given the circumstances, she couldn't blame him.

In the room ahead of her, Barnes was seated on a crate, head and shoulders hanging forward as he slept, held by his metal arm pinned in the vice of a hydraulic press. She stepped up, leaning her cheek against her hand on the doorframe, biting her lip in worry of what would happen next. She watched, for several silent minutes, until she saw Bucky’s head tip to the side. 

Straightening up, Allison crossed the room to kneel down and sit back on her heels in front of him, against the warning she’d been given by Rogers, when they first arrived at the abandoned factory, to stay away. Steve and his friend, Sam Wilson, didn’t know what was happening. They secured Bucky in the press, thinking it may hold him back, if he woke up under the influence of whatever had happened to him. They didn’t trust her when she told them that Barnes would be himself again when he woke. She didn’t blame them though. She wasn’t completely sure herself, but she hoped.

In front of her, Bucky’s head lolled to rest against his trapped arm. His other arm bent over his knee and a small, tired groan left him. He brought his warm hand up to wipe over his face and Allison reached up, gently combing the hair back from his face with her fingertips. He looked up, at her touch. His eyes going wide, looking a little startled before softening in relief. 

“Easy,” she soothed.

His expression fell to worry, as he realized his arm was trapped. “Allison?” 

“It’s okay,” she gently assured him, her own weak expression begging his forgiveness for allowing it to have happened in the first place. “You’re okay, now.” 

Looking over at his arm, he balled his fist, testing the resistance of the vice and feeling no give. He saw the wince in Allison’s face, when he asked, “What the hell? Where are we? What’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry,” she promised, rising to her knees to be able to look him in the eye, one hand brushing the hair from his face to cradle his cheek and the other on his knee. “It’s just a precaution. I’m so sorry. I asked them not to do thi-“

“Hey, Cap...” 

Bucky’s eyes darted to the doorway on his right, seeing the man who had been helping Steve watching them. He leveled his eyes, not sure of what to make of that. Allison turned to see as well. Her gaze fell away, a bit embarrassed to have been being watched and disappointed not to have been able to explain things to Bucky in private. Barnes noticed and put his hand over hers, moving it from his face to hold between them. 

Ahead of him, in the doorway to his left, Steve slowed to a stop. Barnes sat up a little straighter, not sure what to expect. He swallowed the lump he felt building in his throat, squeezing Allison’s hand a little tighter when he felt her fingers twist with his. Her head bowed, her lips pressed together, like a child waiting to be scolded, under Rogers’ stare. 

“Steve?” Barnes questioned, still confused by whatever was happening.

Rogers’ expression softened a bit, looking between him and Allison. “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

Barnes understood his suspicions and paused a moment to think how to win his trust. “Your mom’s name was Sarah,” he nodded. A small grin and laugh came to him, saying, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” 

“Can’t read that in a museum,” Steve said. 

Allison lifted her eyes to Bucky, allowing herself a soft snort and grin of relief at seeing him relax. He gave her a subtle nod and a reassuring squeeze of her hand, believing himself that things may not be as bad as they seemed a moment ago.

From the other doorway, Wilson cocked up a brow, doubting, “Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” 

Some of his apprehension returned, and Barnes hesitantly wondered, “What did I do?” 

“Enough,” was all Steve said.

A shaky breath fell out of him and he closed his eyes. “Oh god, I knew this would happen.” He was angry at himself for letting it, even though he didn’t know how he could have stopped it. He and Allison hadn’t saved him from anything. All they’d done was remove one word of programming. “Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there,” he growled, and Allison cupped her hand to his face, as she sympathetically shook her head. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?” Rogers asked.

“I don’t know,” Barnes sighed. 

“People are dead,” he told him. “The bombing, the set up. The doctor did all of that, just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’.”

Bucky tried to think, squinting against the lingering haze in his mind, before vaguely recalling, “...H-he wanted to know about Siberia...where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?” 

Looking to Allison, she nodded once and he reluctantly admitted, “‘Cause I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”

Sinking back to sit on her heels, she took back her hands to fold in her lap. With her approval, Barnes went on, telling Rogers and Wilson about the volunteer soldiers in Siberia, a mix of his memories and information from the files Allison had stolen. 

Figuring they had reached a turning point, Allison spoke up. “Will you let him go now?” she asked. She turned over her shoulder to see Rogers. “Please.” 

Steve’s gaze held hers for a moment, before he glanced to Sam, seemingly for his consent. Wilson’s posture stiffened a little and his head subtly cocked. With another look to Allison and then Barnes, Steve stepped forward. Without a word, he turned a handle on the vice, releasing Bucky’s metal arm from the press. As Steve went back to his spot by the doorway, Bucky withdrew his arm from the press and rolled his shoulders forward to lean on his knees to try and find a comfortable way to rest. Allison shifted and her hand found its way back to his leg. She kept her attention on his face, worried by the exhaustion she saw in his frame.

“Who are they?” Steve asked, leaning back against the wall beside the doorway.

“Their most elite death squad,” Bucky explained, “more kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum.” 

“They all turn out like you?” Sam quirked up a brow, giving Barnes a once over. 

Allison turned, glaring at Wilson for the haughtiness she heard in his voice, as Barnes flatly answered, “Worse.”

“The doctor,” Steve questioned, “could he control them?” 

Barnes head dropped, admitting, “Enough.”

“He said he wanted to see an empire fall,” he told them. 

“With these guys, he could do it,” Bucky assured them. “They speak 30 languages, hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

Allison looked up, hearing Wilson’s footsteps crossing from his doorway to Steve’s. The two men went back and forth, in a hushed tone. While Allison was curious to know what they could be saying, she was more concerned with Bucky. She rose up to her knees again, inching closer to run her fingers back through his hair and curl her hand over the nape of his neck. 

“When I saw the news that they found you...” The corners of her mouth flinched down, lost for what to say. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky worried, reaching up his warm hand to caress her face and brush his thumb down her cheek, as his left hand went to her shoulder. “Did I-“ 

“No,” she hurriedly said, giving a narrow shake of her head to reassure him. “I’m okay.” His head bowed, as he breathed out in relief, and she dipped her chin to find his gaze again. “Are _you_?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just tired.”

“You need to rest,” she knew, thinking of all the sessions they went through trying to dismantle the failsafe from his programming and how long it took him to recover after each test going under. 

Bucky looked past Allison to see Steve and Sam still whispering. “I don’t think now’s the time for a nap,” he quietly told her, sitting up as he watched Steve coming toward them. 

“The bomber. I know who he is,” she quickly told Barnes. 

Bucky sat a little straighter, eagerly asking, “Who is he?” 

“Zemo,” Allison said. “Col. Helmut Zemo. Mean anything to you?” 

Bucky shook his head, lifting his gaze to Steve when he stopped beside them. Allison picked up one knee, turning on the other to see for herself, her hand falling from Bucky as his fell from her. His metal hand took hers, holding it down by his side, inhaling and bracing for whatever Steve might say or do. Allison’s eyes ticked over to Wilson, trying to read him for any hint of what might happen next, but his expression hadn’t changed since he first came back into the room. 

Rogers looked down on them, his gaze moving from one to the other, before he nodded and said, “Come on. We’ve been here long enough. We need to get moving.” 

“Where are we going?” Allison asked, a little hesitant to accept the hand Rogers held out to help her up. 

“To find some friends,” he told her.

After a promise from Steve that they would be waiting for her, Allison stole a car and brought it back to the warehouse. She was the least likely to be recognized, after all. They drove to the city’s edge, mapping out how they would get to Siberia along the way, before Steve told her to pull over. Allison pulled off to the shoulder of the road and put the car in park, studying her mirrors to make sure no one was following them. 

“You should leave,” Steve bluntly said. 

It was hard to say who questioned him first. The disbelieving complaint of “ _What_?” from Allison and Barnes was near simultaneous, but Bucky went on, before she could, arguing, “Are you outta your damned mind?”

Steve twisted, putting his shoulder into the back of his seat to see Bucky behind him. “She can’t come with us,” he shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“If something’s gonna be dangerous, then you want me around,” she told him. 

“Not this time,” he assured her. “The things we need to do, the people we’re going to run in to, you-“ 

“She can take care of herself,” Bucky insisted. “We need all the help we can g-“ 

“Not this time,” Steve snapped. He exhaled, looking over to Allison. “I know you think you can help-“

”Because I _can_ ,” she said. “I-“ 

“No,” he firmly interrupted. “This is bigger than either of you two know. Right now, you still have a chance, Al.” 

“What chance?” Barnes scoffed, from the back seat. “She just helped us break out of-“ 

“I know,” Steve conceded, with a reluctant nod. “And that’s why she can’t go any further,” he said to Bucky. “If she goes back, she can explain everything. She can tell them where she’s been and she can leverage the intel the two of you have gathered to help get her back in good standing with SHIELD and everyone else.” 

Looking back to Allison, he urged, “You can do just as much to help by telling them the truth and showing them we’re right.” Steve swept his head. “This isn’t your fight, Allison. There’s more going on here than you know, or that I can explain. The Accords happened, whether we wanted them to or not.” He gestured behind him toward Sam. “We’ve made our decision. There’s no going back for us.”

He pointed at her, knowing, “But you? They can’t do anything to you, yet. Lie, if you want. Tell them you ran because you were scared. Tell them we took you against your will. But I can’t let you come with us.” 

Staring at Steve, Bucky began to understand as Wilson seconded, “He’s right.” 

Barnes blinked, looking to Allison as he realized, “He is. You can finally go home now, doll. You just go back to them and tell one more lie and save yourself.” He regretfully shook his head. “You come now, and you’ll never be able to stop running.” He nodded, saying, “I know you always meant to go home. It’s time. Go home, Ally.” 

Allison coughed out a disbelieving laugh, looking around the car. “You- You guys can’t be serious.” She set her eyes on Bucky. “You, of all people,” she told him, “you  _know_ you _need_ me.” 

“I do,” he nodded. “I need you to be safe.” 

“I’m sorry, Al,” Steve bowed his head, “but I won’t let you come with us.” 

Allison took stock of the reluctant, but resolved, faces around her. Slowly, she nodded to herself, quietly agreeing, “Okay.” 

Steve popped the handle on his door, turning to tell the others, “We go on by ourselves from here.” 

Allison watched, a little dumbfounded, as Wilson and Barnes opened up their doors to get out. Bucky moved slower than the others. He felt a wince in his chest, seeing the subtle betrayal in Allison’s expression. He wanted to say something reassuring, but his throat had gone dry and he was at a loss for words anyway. Instead, all he could do was give her a nod, before climbing out of the car to join Steve and Sam at the roadside and watch as Allison drove away. 

Sitting alone in the glass-walled room, Allison felt like a fish in a bowl. She watched the activities of the outer room around her, trying to decipher what was happening from the bits and pieces of conversations she could read off of glimpses of people’s lips. It had only been a few minutes, since she returned to surrender herself at the Joint Counter Terroist Centre, and it only took seconds for her to be in handcuffs and a pair of leg shackles. Her attention snapped over, hearing the conference room door open. She watched the suited man she’d seen before and Romanoff come in. The man moved to stand at the next edge of the table, pocketing his hands, and staring down curiously at Allison, while Natasha seated herself across from her. 

“Ms. Addams,” he began, and Allison knew the face that went with the voice from the speaker now, “I’m Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander. I have to say, you are a fascinatingly confusing woman. First, you break out of this facility-“ 

“I didn’t break out,” Allison spoke up. “I was taken.” 

Natasha quirked up a brow, that Ross couldn’t see, but said nothing. Allison was thankful for that. Ross went on, summarizing the afternoon’s events and her return to custody before he invited Allison to tell him, “What am I supposed to make of that?” 

“I told you,” Allison said, “I didn’t try to escape. If I did, why would I come back?” 

“Exactly,” Romanoff agreed, and it pulled Ross’ attention over his shoulder, for a moment, before he looked back to Allison. 

“I think the guards you attacked in the interview room would beg to differ.” Moving on, he asked, “Rogers and his friends, where are they going?” 

“I don’t know,” Allison swept her head. She didn’t know Ross and had never heard of him. But she got the feeling that he wasn’t asking his questions because he was interested in helping Steve and the others. She decided to keep what she knew to herself and see if Ross would tip his hand. 

“What’s their objective?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“They didn’t say anything in front of you, hm? Is that it?” he glibly asked. 

“They didn’t say anything,” she lied. “They took me to a warehouse, just down the river from here. I could probably point it out, if I saw it again, if you think it’d help, but they locked me in a room. I didn’t see or hear anything.”  

“And they just happened to be such nice guys,” he sarcastically pressed, holding his hand up to her, “that they decided to let you, their hostage and potentially only bargaining chip, go?” 

Allison shrugged. “I don’t know why they did any of what they did.” 

“You’re a friend of Barnes. You’ve been helping him,” he tried to lead her on, pointing a limp finger her way before pocketing his hand again. 

“Something like that,” Allison allowed. “Friend may be a stretch, though. We were business partners, at best.” 

“And your business was what, exactly?” he wondered. 

“The systematic dismantling of HYDRA,” she answered. “As an agent of SHIELD, I-“ 

“There is no SHIELD anymore,” he pointed out. “And definitely no STRIKE. So, what have you been doing, you know, since you died?” 

“Exactly what I just told you,” Allison said, leveling her eyes at Ross for a moment. “Barnes and I crossed paths in Pennsylvania, a little over a year ago. We had a common goal.” 

“Which was?” 

“Retribution,” Allison coolly answered. “Justice.” 

“Which you have arbitrarily been doling out, as you see fit,” he presumed. 

“We’ve gathered more intelligence on HYDRA and removed more strategic players than you, or anyone else, has been able to do since World War II,” she told him. “I’m willing to share our work, in exchange for immunity for any charges that might be brought against me, from DC until now.” 

Ross inhaled slowly, looking to be considering her offer. Allison glanced across the way to Romanoff, but her expression was as placid as ever. Beyond her, Allison noticed Tony Stark standing outside the room, watching them intently. 

“An EMP was responsible for knocking out the power grid that runs this facility,” Ross explained. “What do you know about that?” 

“Nothing,” she swept her head. “I know as much about what happened here as either of you.” 

Ross pointed outside the conference room to one of the large screens on the wall to his right and Allison recognized the man a tech was isolating a picture from surveillance video of. The image was of the man walking near a detention pod holding Barnes. It was Zemo, but Allison only shook her head innocently, when Ross asked if she knew who he was. “No.”

The room was silent, in the pause where Ross studied her. He folded his arms and made a small bend at his waist to tell her to her face, “Bullshit.” He straightened up, looking between the two women, before saying, “I’ll pass on your offer, Ms. Addams. I wouldn’t hold your breath, though. What you call the systematic dismantling of HYDRA and removal of strategic players sounds suspiciously like _murder_ , and maybe more, regardless of whose justice you thought you were dispensing.” 

“The same rules of engagement that-“ 

“There are no rules of engagement,” he cut her off, unfolding his arms to lean down onto his palms flattened on the corner of the table. “We’re not at war, Ms. Addams.” 

“We are,” she promised him. “Since that day in DC, Mr. Ross. Maybe your rung isn’t high enough up the ladder to know, but we are. And what I can offer SHIELD will guarantee we win.” 

“Maybe you weren’t listening,” he flatly supposed, standing up again, “but there is no SHIELD anymore.” 

Allison put on a placating smile. “Of course,” she facetiously agreed. 

Ross leveled his eyes at her, his mouth slacking to speak again, before a knock on the door interrupted.


	13. Chapter 13

While Ross was called out of the room by a man in a suit, Allison watched Stark still waiting outside. Her gaze shifted back to Romanoff and flicked over to the door, hearing it latch. Looking back to the Russian, Allison checked, “Are you okay?”

There was a subtle raise of her chin, before Natasha answered, “Fine.” Allison nodded to herself, a bit relieved, while Natasha looked her over. “Tell me the truth, Al.” Allison started to shake her head, preparing to insist she didn’t know what Romanoff was talking about, when Natasha leaned forward, layering her arms on the edge of the table and saying, “You weren’t kidnapped. You ran. And now you’re back. Tell me what’s going on. Now’s not the time for games.” 

Before she could answer, the door opened. The women looked over to see Stark slip into the room. He carefully shut the door behind him, keeping an eye on Ross and the suited man where they had moved over to a console of screens. Stark looked between them and said, “I don’t think we have a lot of time left.” He pointed a finger at Allison saying, “Start talking, girlie.”

“I don’t-“

“Come off it, Al,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“I was there,” Tony said, meandering down the far side of the conference table. “I woke up, just in time to see you run out the door with them. You know where they’re going and what they’re up to.” He jabbed a finger over towards Ross. “If they find them first, there’s nothing that I can do to help them.” 

Allison shook her head, not sure if she could trust the two Avengers who were obviously aligned with Ross somehow. “I can’t tell you. And I won’t.” She looked at Natasha. “Just trust me when I say, Barnes isn’t the man responsible, for any of this.” 

“That’s not good enough,” Natasha cocked her head. “If he’s not, who is?”

“They have him _on_ _tape_ ,” Stark insisted. 

“We were in Bucharest, for almost two weeks,” Allison told them. “Every day, since December 22nd, Barnes has never left my sight. He wouldn't make a move without me, and he couldn’t have left without me knowing. He was never in Vienna.” 

“Why would someone go to the trouble to frame him?” Natasha asked. “How would anyone even know he was in Europe?”

“The doctor who spoke to Barnes,” Allison led them on. “Who is he? Where did he come from?” 

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but stopped, her gaze, along with Allison’s, snapping over to the door, hearing the latch click open. Without missing a beat, Stark slammed his fist down on the corner of the table, bending down to eye level to glare at Allison, threatening, “Now, tell us where they are, or I will personally fly you out over the ocean and drop you into the Raft with my own two hands.” 

“The hell’s going on in here?” Ross scowled. He pointed to Stark saying, “I thought I told you to stay outside.” 

“Sorry,” Stark said, awkwardly clearing his throat as he stood up again. Smoothing his tie back down his shirt, he shrugged, “Didn’t look like you were getting anywhere, so...” 

“ _Out_ ,” Ross pointed toward the door. 

“Yes, Sir,” Tony obediently nodded once and headed for the door. 

Natasha sat back, folding her arms in front of her and watching Ross, as he walked back to Allison’s corner of the table. “He’s not far off,” he told Allison. “Until we figure out what the truth is, you’ll remain in custody.” 

“What?” Romanoff sat up, her eyes leveling at Ross in confusion. 

“We’ll fly you back to the States,” he continued, his attention still down on Allison, “where you will be far away from here and the CIA will look in to your story. When we’ve decided if you’re telling us the truth, about any of it, we’ll let you know if we’re interested in your little deal.” 

“And if you think I’m lying?” Allison asked. 

“Then we’ll see about getting you those accommodations on the Raft Mr. stark offered,” he grinned. “Unless you have something to add now?”

When Allison didn’t speak, Ross turned to leave. Natasha was slow to rise, but followed Ross out of the room nevertheless. Allison wasn’t left alone for long. A pair of uniformed men came in to collect her, walking her through the halls and downstairs to the garage.

Allison was placed in the backseat of a black SUV, saddled between a pair of German police cars for an escort. Her security didn’t relax until she was put into a cell at the airport. She sat there for almost an hour, until the soldiers let her out and took her directly to a private jet on the tarmac, with her hands cuffed and linked with the chain around her waist. She was transferred to the custody of three suited, and she presumed armed, men who didn’t introduce themselves. She recognized the tail number on the jet, as she boarded, and Allison knew she was in trouble. She was a prisoner on a rendition flight. She should have expected Ross would lie about moving her to Langley.

She was directed to sit in one of the cabin chairs and her seatbelt was buckled for her. The men took seats on the opposite side of the plane to keep watch. The door for the aircraft was sealed and the plane taxied to the runway. Allison began running scenarios in her head. For a transatlantic flight, the plane had to be carrying, at least, close to its max fuel. It would make a trip to Siberia, easily, if they had planned for a US interrogation site and not a black site nearby. She just had to figure out how to overpower three men in a confined space, without a weapon and while wearing handcuffs. Step one, she knew, get rid of the handcuffs. 

She bided her time, waiting for the plane to reach its cruising altitude and studying the men on the flight with her. One was scrolling through his phone and another thumbing through a magazine. The third, the one facing her across the aisle, had no distractions and kept his attention on her. If she waited for him, or any of them, to fall asleep, they might have traveled too far to be able to make the turnaround and not fall short of Siberia. She knew there wouldn’t be a chance to refuel and be allowed to get off the ground again, if they had to make an unscheduled stop.  

She figured her only course of action was to engage all three at the same time, and hope none of them tried to shoot her and risk depressurizing the plane and forcing them down for an emergency landing before she even had a chance to try and break into the cockpit. When the pilot announced seatbelts could be removed, Allison gently cleared her throat, saying, “S’cuse me. Sorry, but, uh, any chance I can use the restroom?” 

She added an apologetic grin, when the man ahead of her shared a look with his partners. He took off his seatbelt and stood, moving across and down the aisle, as he nodded to one of the other men. While the first man bent down to undo Allison’s seatbelt for her, the other passed him to move toward the front of the plane.  

Allison sheepishly grinned. “Any chance I could get a hand free?” She quietly explained, “Ya know...woman problems.”  

The man looked down at her and cocked up a dubious brow. He reached under his suit jacket and produced a tactical handcuff key from a pocket, dropping it in her lap, saying, “Don’t waste your time or ours.” 

Allison clutched the key in her hand and looked between him and the cockpit, as his partner knocked on the door. The first man turned his back to her, going back to his seat. Allison looked down the plane, as the cockpit door opened. The other suited agent stepped aside, as the copilot looked over everyone in the cabin and nodded, before going back to his controls, leaving the door open behind him. 

“What the hell..?” she muttered, her eyes scanning the men in the cabin. The one seemed to have never looked up from his phone.

“Well?” the man seated in front of her prodded. “You want out or not?” 

Allison put her attention down on her restraints, unlocking her hands first and then undoing the chain around her. She put them all on the empty seat next to her, as the first man leaned from his seat, reaching out his hand and saying, “Here.” Allison turned back to see him holding out a Glock 17 on top of a cell phone to her. “Don’t worry. They’re both clean.” 

Allison took the pistol and phone, still wary. “Who the hell are you guys?” 

“Need to know where we’re going,” someone from the cockpit called out. “Sooner the better.” 

“Where to?” the man seconded. 

Allison swept her head. “If this is some kind of-“ 

“Shoo sends his best,” the man interrupted, resting back comfortably in his seat. “He saw your sketch on the news and got a tip from Langley that the Task Force picked you up. He’d just like you to call, when you’re done, and fill him in.” Her hesitance to believe him was obvious in her suspicious once over of him. “Shoo said you wouldn’t trust us. So, he said to tell you, if you don’t pull off whatever it is you’re doing, he promises he’ll give Mick his sunglasses back at your next funeral. Said you’d know what that means.” 

Allison couldn’t help her smirk and snort. She shook her head, saying, “Siberia. As close as you can get, as fast as we can.” 

The man nodded and turned his head toward the cockpit, checking, “You get that?” 

Someone answered they had and Allison’s attention was pulled by the second man opening one of the storage compartments to take out a briefcase. He opened the case and pulled out a magazine, removing the one from his gun and loading the one in his hand. 

“Not to sound ungrateful,” Allison began, “but what are the odds of a whole rendition team being so morally flexible?” 

The men shared a reluctant look, before the first man answered, “It’s not the morals. We lost a good friend in Vienna. Shoo said you were the only one who could find the guy that did it.” 

Allison nodded her understanding and settled back into her seat. The man with the gun racked the slide, before he warned everyone in the cabin, “Ears.” 

Allison mirrored the men in the cabin, when they put their hands over their ears. She watched, as the man with the gun put in a pair of earplugs and nodded to the pilots, before Allison heard the pilot’s hurried call out, “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. November-three-seven-niner-“ The hail cut off abruptly, as the man with the gun fired off a pair of blanks in quick succession.

The casual tone returned to the first voice in the cockpit, as he ordered, “Transponder off. Come around to zero-two-four. Speed, 525 knots. In three...two...one.” 

“Transponder off. Zero-two-four,” another voice confirmed, and Allison felt the plane begin to turn. “ETA- little over five hours.” 

Allison shifted in her seat to be able to see along the other side of the plane and look between all the of three suited men, pointing a limp finger around them, wondering, “So...how’s this gonna work? They’re gonna expect one of two things, either this plane in the ground somewhere or signs of a struggle when it shows up in Russia.” 

“We’ll take care of the details,” the third man looked up from his phone, tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket. “You’ll make a run for it and they’ll find us cuffed up. The pilots will say you put them at gunpoint and forced them to fly to Russia.” 

“What about the gunshots?” she asked, adding, “Nice touch, by the way.” 

The second man unbuttoned his suit coat to show a pair of bullets already shot into his shirt and the concealed body armor underneath it. “Taken care of,” he noted, crouching down to pick up the spent casings from the blank rounds.

Allison watched him toss the casings into the briefcase with his earplugs. He took out a small plastic bag, pulling open the ziplock to let a second pair of spent casings fall to the floor. He put the bag in the case and stripped the empty magazine for the blanks from his gun, replacing it with the one holding lethal rounds, that Allison assumed would be two short, and reloading his weapon. He closed and locked the suitcase, putting it back in the cupboard and opening another one, putting his gun inside. The man came back down the aisle, taking the guns offered by his partners and putting them in the storage compartment. He locked the handle and passed the key off to Allison on his way back to his seat. 

“Well,” Allison sat back in her seat, her brow rising, impressed, “looks like you guys got it all sorted out.” 

“Just sit back and enjoy the flight,” the first man smiled. 

She made it out of the airport, climbing over a fence and making a run for it across the open field nearby, until she hit a stand of trees and looked back to see if she was being followed. In the clear, Allison made her way down a service driveway and back out to the main road. She thumbed a ride into town and used her new phone to search for a place to rent a snowcat, or anything else to rent or steal, to go after Zemo. She called Schumacher, after she was dropped off at a 24-hour diner. 

From a corner booth in the back of the nearly empty restaurant, Allison caught him up on the details of her arrest. She left out the parts about her friendship with Barnes and what she knew about the additional Winter Soldiers, telling Schumacher instead about how she used the gate analysis to identify Zemo as the bomber. She admitted it didn’t make any sense, when Shoo complained, wondering why Zemo would bomb the UN in such a disguise. 

“So, where are you?” Schumacher asked.

“Siberia,” she told him, sipping a cup of coffee she’d ordered that she had no money to pay for. 

“What the fuck are you doing in Siberia?” 

“I think Zemo is here,” she answered. “I need to you to send me the picture I gave you, and the ones in the dossier you sent.” 

“What, are you gonna go knocking door to door?” he chuckled. 

“If I have to,” she shrugged. 

“You think you can follow him to Barnes?” Schumacher wondered. 

“No. I’m telling you, he  _is_ Barnes.” 

“...What?” 

“The man in the video isn’t the real Barnes,” she explained. “It’s Zemo. Just trust me. Give the CIA Zemo’s name and have them run the gate analysis on the video from the garage, just like I told you I did. I’d just send you my stuff, but I had to wipe my computer when I got made in Berlin. But they‘ll be able to copy my work.“

“Al, this is getting out of hand,” he told her. “You’re chasing this guy to Siberia... You don’t even know where he went. You need to tell the Task Force about him. Let them handle it.

“I can probably convince the CIA to pay you for identifying Zemo as the bomber instead of Barnes,” he figured. “At least part of it, anyway. You disappear again, while you still have a chance. Call me when you’re safe and I’ll get you your money, and you get the hell off the grid again.” 

“I’m gonna see this through,” she promised, and she heard him sigh on the other end of the call. “I just need some help.” 

“Help?” he balked. “Like breaking you out of CIA custody wasn’t enough?” 

“You're at the top of my Christmas card list, I swear,” she assured him, with a grin.  

“Christmas card list, my ass,” he grumbled. “You know how much it cost me to take over that flight for you?” 

“Take it out of my account.” 

“Then FYI, you’re pretty much broke again.” He gave a heavy sigh, before asking, “Now what?” 

“I’ve got no wallet or cover IDs on me,” she said. “I need you to rent me a snowcat. And wire me some cash, so I can buy some clothes I won’t freeze to death in.” 

“I feel like I’m being left in the dark here, Al,” Schumacher told her. 

“You are,” she nodded to herself. “But I promise, I’ll explain the rest when I’m done.” 

After a pause, Schumacher relented, saying, “Tell me where to send the money. I’ll send you the info on your rental soon. And check your phone. You should have those pictures.” 

“Thanks, Shoo,” Allison smiled. 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Honey, I’m home...” Allison quietly sang, bringing the tracks of her snowcat to a halt.

She cut off the engine and took the gun from her pocket. She was parked behind the other tracked vehicle. Allison slipped out of the cab and hopped down into the snow, her gaze scanning her surroundings again before settling on the other vehicle. She crept up from an angle, until she could see there was no one inside. Looking down, her eyes followed the trail made by a single set of footprints to a pair of thick, metal doors left ajar and cut into a rise of rock. 

Allison made her way inside, moving cautiously and quietly, looking and listening for any sign of where Zemo might have gone. The snow from his boots had led her to an elevator, but she had no idea which floor to start on. She found a door for a staircase nearby. It had a card swipe lock, but Allison was able to pry the lock’s cover off and short the wiring to get inside.

She went floor by floor, stopping to peek out from each flight she went down, checking to see if there was any water or snowy footprints leaving the elevator. Four stories down, Allison spotted a few fading, wet footprints. They were only visible for a few feet, but she had a direction to go. Moving through the corridors, she paused at corners to listen and peek, checking door handles as she passed.   

Allison found a door standing open. The plaque on the wall had been dusted clean to read that it was a records storage area. She bowed her head listening intently for any sign that someone was inside. Hearing nothing, Allison put her hand on the door to slowly push it open and brought her gun up. She stopped, spinning around on her heel and putting her aim down the hall, hearing the sound of metal screeching. 

Allison followed the noise, hurrying down the hall to see the cables of the caged in elevator moving. She rushed forward, pressing her head to the gate to look down the elevator shaft. She watched the car descend several more floors, before it stopped and she heard the rattle and knock of the car door being opened. Allison ran down the stairs, skipping steps and swinging around the turns of the handrail to catch up. When she thought she’d reached the floor where the car stopped, she paused to listen at the door before she cracked it open to see the hall. 

Allison was alone, but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two behind Zemo. With her weapon up, she started her methodic search again. She held her breath, listening at an intersection in the hall. She flinched, pressing back against the wall as she heard a gunshot to her right. Allison waited a few seconds, before she crouched down to a knee to take a quick peek down the hall where the shot had come from. She hadn’t heard any voices or footsteps, and the echo in the empty concrete corridors wasn't helping. 

She didn’t see anyone and got back on her feet. As she cautiously advanced down the hall, she stopped, hearing another shot come from ahead of her. With no other noise, she moved again. She got several more steps before there was another shot. Ahead of her, the wide doorway to her right opened into a large room and she inched forward to see inside. She stopped, ducking back and flattening herself against the wall, seeing a figure cross the open space ahead of her. She listened to the footsteps receding and looked again.

She watched, as the unknown person’s arm came up and this time she saw the muzzle flash that went with the shot. Allison figured she had found Zemo. She was still, watching him move a little deeper into the room, stop, and take another shot. She couldn’t tell what he was doing, but his shots hadn’t shattered the glass of the large containers he had taken aim at. Zemo lowered his arm and turned his back to her, walking to a desk off to the side of the room. She watched him lay his gun down on the table and pull the strap of a messenger bag off over his head, before brushing his coat’s hood off his head. He busied himself with the bag and Allison slipped out of her coat and into the room. 

Allison moved deeper into the room, going from one piece of cover to the next. She found herself crouched next to one of the containers Zemo had shot at and she looked up. Allison’s jaw slacked open, finally able to see through the haze of the air inside the container to see a man seated and strapped in a chair with a gunshot wound to his forehead. She took a second look and realized she was hiding beside some kind of cryogenic chamber. She inched a little further to look around the chamber and see all of the containers laid out around the room where identical and all but one had someone shot dead inside. 

She and Zemo had found the other five Winter Soldiers. She crushed her eyes closed for a moment, silently chiding herself for not having had time to get deeper into the Program files. Maybe she would understand what Zemo was up to. As it was, she was at a loss. Why would he go to the trouble to set up Barnes and find this place just to kill the other soldiers? He had the book. Barnes said so. He saw it. In theory, Zemo could have woken up one or all of the soldiers and put them under his control. Allison shifted her weight and turned to creep around the back of the cryo chamber and sneak up to the next. 

“I know you’re there.” 

Allison dropped down, huddled on her knee.

“You may as well come out.”

She waited a beat, before raising her head just enough to try and peer through the glass at the bottom of the chamber beside her and see across the room. Zemo had his gun in hand again, scanning the room as he moved one step at a time. He knew she was there, but maybe not where. Or it could have been a paranoid bluff. 

Looking around, she mapped out her next move to cover. She peeked again to check Zemo’s location in relation to her and inched backward to the back side of the chamber. Hidden behind the large machine, Allison stood up and sprinted the gap to the next chamber, tucking down to hide below the level of the glass. Zemo hadn’t seen and was still working his way down the room while Alison had moved up. She kept the chamber between them, as Allison maneuvered around behind Zemo. 

There was a cart nearby that seemed to have belonged to a maintenance worker or a tech charged with the upkeep of the chambers at some point. She carefully picked up a loose socket from a wrench and threw it across the room. When it fell, rattling among some unseen metal to Zemo’s left, he turned to fire a couple shots. Allison was counting, trying to guess how many rounds he might have left without knowing what gun he was carrying. At the worst, she figured he had 8 more, before he’d have to reload, if he even had another magazine. Allison picked up another socket to throw, hoping she could get him to waste a couple more rounds. 

Zemo was closing on the spot he had zeroed in on as the source of the noise. Allison threw the next socket lower to the ground, sending it skipping across the floor. Zemo turned, following the next noise, and Allison retreated back behind the chamber. He was wise to the trick and seemed to have gone as far as he wanted. Zemo started coming further into the room again, still looking for whoever was in there with him. 

“Come now, Captain,” Zemo complained. “I expected more from you.” Allison’s brow knit down in curiosity, as she listened, using the sound of his voice to track him through the room. “These games are for children.” 

Allison slid back, her back to the chamber and inching around as she heard his boot scuff nearby. She turned, moving forward around the chamber until she could see through the edge of the glass. She couldn’t see Zemo anymore and he’d stopped talking. 

“Your gun,” he quietly said, pressing the muzzle of his pistol into the back of her head, “put it down.” 


	14. Chapter 14

Allison moved deliberately slow, moving her hand out to her side and putting a bend in her knees to lower her gun to the floor. The subtle movement meant she no longer felt the gun to her head. Allison dropped to her knees, twisting as she did to throw her elbow back into his stomach. Zemo doubled over and Allison grabbed the barrel of his gun, pushing his arm out and the gun away. Coughing for his breath, Zemo pulled back and pulled the trigger.

Allison felt the air move, as the shot flew over her shoulder, a ringing coming immediately to her ear. Zemo twisted his wrist and jerked back, and the torsion was too much for Allison’s grip to hold up against. Allison let go of the gun, gasping at the sharp pain that went through her wrist and the tear in her palm from the front sight of the gun being drug through the skin. Zemo drove his knee up under her chin, sending her down to the floor on her back. He swung his arm, pointing his sights at her head. Despite the pain in her hand and the ringing in her ears, Allison grinned up at him, when he pulled the trigger again and nothing happened. Allison had prevented the slide from moving enough that the first bullet’s casing wasn’t properly extracted and a new round had never fed. 

Zemo’s brow furrowed, realizing what happened. He moved to clear the malfunction, but not before Allison drove her boot up into his gut, sending him stumbling backward. She didn’t waste time looking when she couldn’t feel her gun in reach on the floor, seeing Zemo had fumbled into a desk and was recovering his balance. She got to her feet, barreling at him and lowering her shoulder into his ribs to knock him back over the desk to take him to the floor with her. 

His hands empty now, Zemo shook off a dazed look and lurched forward, reaching for Allison as she had just started to push herself up off the floor. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to wrap his arm around her neck and pull her against him. Allison threw an elbow up, but Zemo ducked to the side, shifting with his back against the desk to get off his hip and hook his right leg over and in between hers. 

Allison groaned, the adrenaline in her veins not enough to overcome the excruciating pain of the injuries to her hand, as she grabbed his forearm across her throat, trying to pull it away. She planted her left foot, raising her hip to try and turn out of his grip or get an inch to get her chin down and breathe, but Zemo choked up on her, letting go of her hair to clasp his hand over the fist of his other and hold on to her even tighter. Allison let go, reaching back with her uninjured hand to claw at his face. She felt Zemo struggle behind her, trying to lean out of her reach, but Allison found her mark and dug her thumb into his eye. 

Zemo cried out and, as he instinctively reached up to defend and cover his wounded eye. Allison grabbed hold of his arm again, yanking it away. With a little room to move now, Allison threw back her head into his. Zemo was momentarily stunned and Allison was able to roll out of his hold of her. She scrambled across the floor until her boots found traction and she was able to get to her feet. Zemo growled out in pain, slamming his fist into the side of the desk, as he leaned into his shoulder, using it as leverage to stand. 

Looking around, Allison spotted Zemo’s gun, at the same time he did. They shared a look, both unsteady on their feet and panting for breath. Zemo’s right eye was swollen shut and bleeding, but he glanced down one more time at his pistol on the floor. Allison knew they were both calculating the distance to the gun and who would get there first. They both dove, reaching. 

Allison got there first, her luck measured by a fraction of an inch. She slid a few feet across the floor and until her back slammed into the base of one of the cryo chambers, growling through the pain of her wounded hand grabbing and racking the slide of Zemo’s gun. Zemo turned on his side, looking up in time for his gaze to meet hers as she pulled the trigger. He jerked, his arms drawing in to himself as the bullet hit him center mass. 

Allison sat up, keeping the gun trained on Zemo, as she got to her feet. He rolled onto his back, wheezing and clutching a hand to his chest. She took the few steps back to stand over him, as he pushed himself up to slump against the chamber behind him. He swallowed, seeming to wait for air to speak, before he managed, “Who are you?” 

She took a knee, resting back on her heel, just out of his reach and with the gun still on him, tucked tightly at her side. With her bad hand, she gingerly took her phone from her pocket, opening the camera to start a video, before she answered, “My name is Allison Addams, 2nd Lieutenant, SHIELD, STRIKE Division. And you’re Helmut Zemo, former Sokovia Army Colonel.”

A misplaced smile came to him, as he weakly chuckled and his head eased back to the metal behind him. “STRIKE?” he questioned. “I thought you all were HYDRA,” he dryly mused, his eye raking down her suspiciously, as she lifted her phone to show him to the camera and then propped the phone on its end against the wheel of a nearby cart to keep recording their conversation. Allison let out a frustrated exhale, looking around the room, still unsure of what his plan was, and Zemo chuckled to himself. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.”

“I’m no friend of HYDRA, Colonel,” she assured him. 

“Good,” he gave a nod. “HYDRA deserves its place on the ash heap.” 

“On that, we agree,” she told him. 

“Then I’m at a loss for why you are here, Lieutenant,” he admitted, “if you’re not here to protect your brothers and sister.”

“You told Barnes, you wanted to see an empire fall,” she said, needing somewhere to start from. “Whose empire?” 

“Yours,” he said, licking at his lips before a hard swallow. “Theirs.” His good eye fluttered shut, tiredly. “You and I are both soldiers, Lieutenant,” he noted, “but this is not your fight.”

“You set off the EMP in Berlin, didn’t you?” There was a subtle nod from Zemo, but he didn’t answer. “You needed time alone with Barnes to activate HYDRA’s programming. But why the bomb in Vienna? Was it all just to get to him, so he could tell you about this place?” She swept her head, “I don’t understand, Colonel.”

“How could you?” he sighed, and Allison’s brow furrowed down in curiosity of his now pained expression and tone of voice. “Your still have your people.” 

“You’re Sokovian. Is that what this is about?” she pressed. 

He scoffed. “Sokovia was a failed state, long before the Avengers blew it to hell.” He gave a small shake of his head. “No. I’m here because of a promise.” 

“You lost someone,” she reasoned. 

The hurt came back to his expression. “I lost everyone.”

Zemo closed his eye and slowly shook his head. “My father lived outside the city, and I thought we would be safe there. My son...was excited.” Zemo paused, his head lolling to the side and a wince in his face for his breath. “He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, ‘Don't worry. They're fighting in the city. We're miles from harm.’ ...When the dust cleared, and the screaming stopped,” He sucked in another labored breath. “it took me two days until I found their bodies. My father, still holding my wife and son in his arms.”

His brow rose. “And the Avengers? ...They went home.” Zemo shook his head. “I knew I couldn't kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But if I could get them to kill each other...” 

“How?” Allison asked. “How would you get them to kill each other?” 

It took a few more breaths before Zemo could continue. “When SHIELD fell, Black Widow released HYDRA files to the public,” he explained. “Millions of pages. Much of it encrypted, not easy to decipher, but... I have experience...” He gave a small nod. “and patience. A man can do anything, if he has those.” 

Zemo’s head dropped, as he choked through a cough. Allison watched him carefully, waiting to see if he’d recover and continue. His head seemed heavy, the way he made a few small nods to raise it again. He swallowed down a breath and sighed it out.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again,” he said. “But one, which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever.” 

“How were you going to do it, Colonel?” she asked again.

His eye came up to stare at her for a long moment, before he told her. “We are all products of our past, Lieutenant. It only takes one moment to shatter the illusion that we’re anything better than animals.” He took as deep a breath as he could, the air wheezing into his chest. “The first time we pointed a loaded gun at another human being and took their life, you and I evolved. We are what they made us. ...Monsters,” he derisively sneered, “with a propensity for violence and a taste for blood.” He closed his eye, reminding her, “For you and I, it was an order. Or perhaps the choice of our life or an enemy’s death, thrust suddenly upon us by fate. For them...it will be the truth.” 

She gave a narrow shake of her head. “What truth?” 

“That they are all no better than the rest of us,” he said. “That they are all selfish and liars, and that blood begets blood.”

Zemo’s hand fumbled down his chest to his coat pocket. With only one good hand, Allison raised the aim of her gun from his chest to his head, warning him to stop. His free hand raised limply in surrender and his drooping head shook.

“Please,” he begged, his voice hushed as his face twisted in pain and he hissed in a breath.

Zemo withdrew his hand, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. Allison reached out, gritting her teeth against the stab of pain that went through her hand and wrist, as she snatched the phone from his grasp. She balanced the phone on her leg, waking the screen to see that the device wasn’t a trigger for a bomb or any other threat. The phone was queued to its messages, ready to play a voicemail that, according to its time and date stamp, was almost two years old.

“Please,” he said again, panting for air, his hand turning over in his lap for the phone. 

Allison studied the phone and then him, confused by and a little wary of the dampness welling in his eye fixed on the phone. She took a contemplative breath and pressed the play button, turning the speaker on to hear the message. It took a moment to process what she was hearing. Allison looked up from the phone to Zemo, realizing the message was from his wife. She swallowed hard, listening to her talk about planning their son’s birthday party and seeing the tear that escaped Zemo’s tightly shut eye. 

“ _I’m going to bed. I love you. ...Come home soon_.” 

The message ended and Allison felt like she’d trespassed someplace sacred she didn’t belong. She tucked the gun away in the back of her waistband. She reached out, putting Zemo’s phone in his upturned hand. His head tipped down to see it and he seemed to struggle to find the strength to curl his fingers around the device. She was surprised, when she saw his trembling thumb stretch to press the delete button and erase the message. 

“Tell me...Lieutenant,” he wheezed, his breaths turning to interrupting gasps, “...what wouldn’t you do...for...your family?” 

His breaths came much more shallowly and Allison solemnly offered, “The bombing in Vienna, framing Barnes, trying to kill the Avengers... Nothing would have brought them back. I’m sorry, Colonel.” 

“As am I, Lieutenant.”

Zemo’s breath rattled out of him. Allison watched his chest rise with a subtle jerk and the air left him in a long sigh. His head lolled to the side, his eye glazed over, as his body gave its final efforts. She scooted up, taking his wrist in her hand to feel for a pulse. A few agonal breaths later, he was gone.  

She shifted her weight, pulling her foot out from underneath her to sit on the ground. She pulled up a knee, resting her elbow there to cradle her head in her palm. Allison exhaled slowly, giving Zemo one final discerning look. She picked up her phone and stopped her recording, certain he was dead. She stuck it back in her pocket and pulled Zemo’s gun from behind her, tossing aside.

She had won. She had found her man and stopped him before he could kill anyone else. But there was surprisingly little satisfaction in her victory. 

Allison had killed many men, but those deaths were calculated and fleeting. It had been a long time, since Allison had watched someone die; sat and waited with them. Regarding him again, Allison felt an unusual remorse for being a part of Zemo’s final moments so intimately. She had no doubt that she had done the right thing in stopping him, but now she understood what set him on this path. She considered herself and what she’d come here to do for Barnes, wondering if she and the Colonel were really any different. Another part of her regretted that Zemo couldn’t have been arrested to satisfy the inevitable need of his victims’ family and friends for justice.

Allison turned over her hand in her lap, eyeing the torn skin of her palm and feeling the strain and ache reach into her forearm, as she opened her hand and turned it into the light from the chamber in front of her. She frowned at the blood slowly dripping down and around her hand, before she planted her good hand on her knee to push herself up to stand. She took a moment to steady herself, tucking her wounded hand up to her chest to protect it as she leaned into her arm against the glass of the cryo chamber. Allison straightened up and went to the desk Zemo had set his bag on. 

The bag was still packed and closed. Allison picked up the strap, looping it over her head and shifting the bag behind her. Zemo’s body she would turn over to the Task Force, but Allison wasn’t satisfied with her investigation yet, and she suspected Barnes wouldn’t be either. She turned around and started back toward the hallway, taking a moment to recall which way to turn to find the elevator again. 

Rounding the next corner, her breath hitched and Allison scuffed to a stop, startled for a moment to see anyone in the hall ahead of her and instantly relieved to see Barnes, despite his rifle pointed at her, and Rogers and his shield beside him. Bucky quickly dropped the muzzle of his weapon, muttering a profanity, as Steve lowered his shield and swung it to secure in its harness on his back. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky quietly griped. “What are you doing here?” 

“I followed Zemo,” she told him, and took a deep breath to bring down her pulse from the start she’d been given. 

They all walked forward to meet each other, as Bucky looked past her down the hall, asking, “Where is he?” 

Allison regretfully swept her head, telling them, “He’s dead.” She inclined her head behind her. “And so are the other Winter Soldiers.” 

“You killed them?” Bucky questioned, his brow wrinkling down. 

“Not me,” she shook her head. “Zemo did.” 

“Are you hurt?” Steve worried, and Allison looked over to see his gaze set on her bloody hand at her chest. 

“I’m fine,” she said, flinching away from Bucky’s fingertips brushing softly over the tender and developing bruise under her chin. 

The two super soldiers exchanged a wary look, before Rogers checked, “Is there anyone else here?” 

“No,” she said. “But we need to call the Task Force.” Allison reached into her pocket for her phone and held it up for Bucky to see. “I have his confession,” she told him. “And I’m sure they’ll want to have a look at what the Russians left down here.” 

Barnes stared down at the phone in her fingertips. He looked up at Allison, lost for what to say, except to ask, “How-?” 

Allison swayed. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline wearing off or the hit she had taken in the jaw, but Rogers was there with a fast hand on her arm to steady her.

“We need to get you out of here,” he decided and Bucky nodded his agreement. 

Still uneasy in the hallways of the abandoned Department X base, Barnes brought his weapon back up, as Steve put an arm around Allison’s shoulder to help her to the elevator. Bucky stayed on alert, despite Allison explaining how she knew they were alone, until the elevator took them back to the surface. A shiver went through Allison, as they stepped back out into the snow and she realized she’d left her coat behind. She was relieved to see a Quinjet ahead of them. 

Onboard the jet, Allison took Zemo’s bag off and put it on one of the racks above the jump seats. Bucky found a blanket in one of the storage compartments of the jet, as Steve raised the ramp and powered up the engines. Allison eased down into one of the seats, with a long blink and a grateful sigh. She opened her eyes, feeling the blanket Barnes draped over her shoulders. She smiled her thanks, as he knelt down in front of her to tug the ends of the blanket around her. 

The engines whined to full power and Bucky gave her a thorough once over. His eyes came back up to hers, his hand smoothing back over the side of her hair to curl over the nape of her neck. A shy grin ticked up the corner of her mouth, at the touch and the worried look he gave her, before he gently took her injured hand in his metal one, turning her wrist for her to show him her palm, eliciting a hissed in breath and grimace from her. 

“Jesus, doll,” he muttered, studying the cut in the light and seeing some bruising starting in her wrist. 

“I’m okay,” she promised him. 

A small, reluctant snort escaped him, despite his head shaking in disapproval. “I know you are,” he told her. He let her go and pulled his hand from her neck, giving her cheek a soft brush from his thumb along the way. “But we still need to cover that up.” 

Allison nodded, as Bucky sat back on his heels and turned to get up and go to the first aid locker. Neither of them said anything, as Barnes worked, carefully dressing her wound and wrapping her wrist until she could get proper medical attention. When he was finished, he gathered up the leftover supplies to put back in the locker and Allison took out her phone. Bucky went up to the cockpit to check in with Steve and Allison called Schumacher. 

She smiled, when he asked, “You still alive?” instead of saying, “hello”. 

“Unfortunately,” she grinned. 

“Are you done?” he asked. “Did you find him?” 

“I found him,” she nodded to herself, resting her head back against her seat. “I’m done.” 

“Are you okay?” he worried. 

“I’m fine,” Allison said. “Just a little tired now.” 

“What about Zemo?” 

Allison inhaled deeply, before saying, “He’s dead. I need you to tell the Task Force where he is. I’ll send you coordinates. And tell DeputyTaskForceCommanderRoss, he’s gonna want to see this place for himself.” 

“What was in Siberia?” Schumacher wondered. 

She closed her eyes, slouching comfortably in her seat, offering, “How ‘bout I tell ya over a beer? Pretty sure everyone knows I’m not dead, now. No sense in sneaking around, anymore. Besides,” she grinned, “never been to Casablanca.” 

“Al,” he chuckled, “for what I have a feeling you just did, I’ll buy you better than a beer.” 

She tiredly snorted, promising, “Get me that money from the CIA and _I’ll_ buy.” 

“Deal,” he laughed. “Where are you going now?” 

She opened her eyes, looking up toward the cockpit. “Home, Shoo. I think I’m finally going home.”


	15. Chapter 15

“How’d you do it?” Allison opened her eyes, seeing Bucky taking the seat beside her, her head lolling over to see him, as Bucky continued, “Steve’s friend said you were turned over to the CIA and put on a plane back to DC.”

She gave a long nod to say he was right, before telling him, “Turns out I had friends in high places, and with deep pockets.” 

“You mean-“ 

“Shoo bought out the agents on the flight,” she told him. “They set it up to look like I overpowered the prisoner transfer team and forced the pilots to fly me to Russia. Even had a guy mocked up with a couple shots to a vest, for authenticity.” 

Bucky shook his head, with a faint smirk. He paused, his expression sobering, before he asked, “What happened with Zemo?” 

Allison inhaled slowly. Her gaze fell away to the floor of the jet, as she considered how to answer, still a little ashamed of the sympathy she had for Zemo. She debated if she had anything better to say than just telling Barnes to watch the video. 

Bucky shifted in his seat, taking her hand in his, his brow pinched up in concern, checking, “Allison...are you okay?” 

She nodded, tuning back in and flashing a grin. “Yeah.” 

“What’d he do to you?” he quietly worried, knowing what he could see of her injuries and imagining worse he couldn’t, putting his other hand on her shoulder. 

“Nothing,” she reluctantly said. “He’s just...” 

She trailed off, not sure how to finish. But Barnes picked up where she stopped, concluding, “He’s a monster.”

Allison shook her head, with a wilting grin, saying, “He’s no more a monster than any of us.” 

“What do you mean?” he frowned, confused. His brow furrowed, reminding her, “He killed _dozens_ of innocent people...tried to frame me for their murders. He-“

“I know,” she nodded. Allison’s eyes drifted down to his hand over hers. “But I understand why he did,” she quietly admitted, turning her hand over to twist her fingers with his. 

Bucky looked down at their hands together. He wasn’t any closer to understanding why she would defend Zemo, but something about the sentiment in her voice made him worry a little less. He slid his hand across her shoulders, as she leaned into his side, and gave her hand a squeeze. 

Allison broke the brief silence between them, lifting her head to ask, “Where are we going?” 

“New York,” he told her. “Just a pit stop, maybe. Steve’s not sure we’ll be safe there.” Bucky pouted thoughtfully, tipping his head to consider, “Seeing as how you took down a CIA prisoner transport team, shot one of ‘em, and highjacked their plane.” 

“Oh, yeah,” she quietly snorted. “There is that.”

Allison wasn’t as struck as Bucky seemed to be, walking from the landing pad at the Avengers Compound. In a lot of ways, it reminded her of the Triskelion, but the facility was still impressive. The ground crew that was on deck to manage the jet didn’t pay Allison and Bucky any more attention than they did to Steve. She and Bucky followed the Captain through a hangar and into an attached building. Rounding a corner to the next hallway, they stopped together. Allison looked to Rogers, as he eyed Tony Stark standing in the middle of the hall. 

After a tense moment, Steve spoke up, saying, “It’s over, Tony.” 

“You and your little friends here,” Stark said, circling a finger towards Allison and Bucky, “are still fugitives, Cap. That one,” He pointed at Allison. “shot a federal agent and highjacked a government plane.” Rogers’ expression seemed to say he was hoping to avoid that coming up so soon, as he looked down his shoulder to Allison, who gave him a guilty shrug of innocence and an apologetic wince, as Tony shifted his finger to point at Barnes next, continuing, “And that one...” Tony’s brow wagged up and head cocked, realizing, “I don’t even know where to begin with him.” 

“The man responsible for the Vienna bombing-“ Steve paused to correct himself, “for _all_ of this, is dead now.” 

“I know,” Tony said, stepping forward and pulling his phone from his pocket, tapping it to life, and giving a subtle flick of his wrist for it to display a hologram of one of Zemo’s service photos. “Col. Zemo, right?” He tapped his phone and the image changed to a photograph of what appeared to be a deceased man in a bathtub. “CIA found this guy in Berlin. _This_ ,” he said, gesturing to the image, “is the doctor who was supposed to interview Barnes.” He pocketed his phone, adding, “Found him after they got an anonymous tip giving them Zemo’s name and telling them to backtrack the footage from the news station garage in Vienna.” Stark looked pointedly at Allison. “Wonder how they figured that out.” 

“Then you know,” Steve supposed, “that Bucky’s innocent.” 

Stark scrunched up his face and waggled a hand in the air. “Innocent is a loose term, here,” he said. 

“Hey,” Bucky began to argue, until he looked down, feeling Allison’s hand come up to his arm to stop him. 

“What he did for HYDRA,” Allison spoke up, “wasn’t his fault. We can prove that.” 

“I hear you got lots ‘a things you can tell us about HYDRA,” Tony noted, casually pocketing his hands. 

“So, what are you doing, Tony?” Steve firmly questioned. “Are you turning us in?” 

Stark looked them over for a moment, before he made a soft click of his tongue behind his teeth and decided, “No.” 

Allison and Bucky shared a look, both visibly relieved, while Rogers nodded, saying, “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” Barnes seconded. He looked to Allison, saying, “She needs to see a doctor.” 

Tony tilted his head sideways, looking down at the wrappings on Allison’s hand and wrist. “We can fix that,” he said, inclining his head for them to follow him. “This way.” 

Tony turned on his heel and the others fell in behind him, as Steve asked, “What about Secretary Ross?” 

“Oh, he’s on hold,” Stark brightly answered over his shoulder. “Been there for about 30 minutes now.” 

“I know how much you like to watch the light blink,” Steve smirked. 

“I do,” Tony agreed. A thoughtful, yet mischievous, grin came to him. “I really do.”

Looking out over the river, Allison took in a deep breath of the damp evening air. It had been a long time since she had the time and quiet to appreciate such a peaceful scene, listening to the frogs croak by the water’s edge and watching the fireflies blink in and out of the twilight. It was her third night at the compound. From the moment she woke up that first day, SHIELD had occupied her every moment with questions about everything she’d done the last two years, starting from that day in DC.

She hadn’t seen more than a passing glimpse of Barnes, or anyone else, in a hallway between questioning sessions. Bucky was preoccupied with his own interviews. Allison understood they’d want to question them separately, but they were doing such a good job of keeping them occupied it had been impossible to see each other. The marathon style interviews had only short breaks in between, nothing long enough for Allison to do more than stretch and take a bathroom break. A few times, she even ate during the depositions. Coupling that with the exhaustion catching up with her since Bucharest, Allison was beat. At the end of the day, all she had the energy to do was go to bed and wait for the process to start over in the morning.

“How do I say how glad I am that you’re back,” Steve spoke up from behind, and Allison straightened up to turn around to see him step out onto the balcony, “without giving you so much ammo that you’ll never stop making fun of me for being a sap?” 

She grinned at the shy grin and tilt of his head. “Ohh,” she chuckled, nodding slowly, “I think you just gave me plenty.” 

“Figures,” he quietly snorted, with an accepting nod up of his head, as if he should have already known. 

“Yeah, I think I can make that one question alone last for a good year or two, easy,” she winked, folding her arms and leaning back against the railing. 

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he sighed and gave her a smile, bending down to lean on his arms on the railing next to her, looking out toward the water. Rogers looked over at her, checking, “How’s the hand? You settling in alright?” 

Allison nodded, with a hum. “Good,” she decided, turning over her hand to inspect the wraps on her wrist and hand. The ache and swelling was mostly gone, after a couple days of treatment, and the cut in her palm had avoided needing stitches. “Kind of a lot going on around here,” she considered. “Not used to all this...stuff happening everyday. Suits and uniforms all over the place... Got used to sort of a minimalist lifestyle, I guess you could say.” 

He nodded, smiling at her choice of words. “Still don’t know how you managed to do it,” he mused. 

“I had a little help,” she shrugged. 

“No you didn’t,” he disagreed. “Not for awhile, anyway. What you did after DC was-“ Steve paused, thinking what to say. “Hell. Honestly, it’s incredible.” Allison flashed a meek smile. “I don’t know anyone else that would’ve done what you did. And how you helped Bucky?” He cocked up a brow and swept his head. “What you did to HYDRA and the intel you gathered? You two might have just handed us the keys to taking down HYDRA, permanently.” 

Playfully swiping a hand down through the air, she shrugged off the soft heat of humility in her cheeks. “Agh, ain’t nothing anybody else wouldn’ta done, if they were there.” 

“Go ahead, Al,” Steve insisted, “be proud of what you’ve done. You’ve earned it.” 

“Not really my thing,” she whispered to him, leaning over to bump her shoulder to his. She straightened up, saying, “I’d just as soon move on to the next mission, if I had it my way.” 

“You deserve a rest,” he said, nudging his elbow to hers. “You’ve been on the run for so long. It’s time you catch your breath.” 

“I don’t like sitting still,” Allison said. “And all these questions people are asking...” She dropped and shook her head, admitting, “Guess I got a lot of explaining to do.” 

Next to her, Rogers quietly snorted, his head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, well, maybe all these questions will make you too tired to run again,” he quipped. 

“At this rate? I’ll sleep for a month,” she mused, “by the time they’re finished with me.” 

“I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged. “Least I’d know where you are.” 

Allison let out a sigh. “Sorry about that,” she gently offered. “It’s just...I kind of had a mark on me.” He nodded along, as she explained, “I had a chance to follow the bad guys and I took it. Besides, after your little speech that day, I couldn’t exactly stick around.” She uncrossed her ankles to kick her toe into the side of his leg. “So,” she smiled, “it’s really _your_ fault I was gone all this time.” 

“ _My_ fault?” he balked, standing up to look down at her, a crooked grin on his lips. 

“Yyyep,” she nodded, dipping her head low in exaggeration. “That’s what I’m going with, anyway.”  

Rogers chuckled, shaking his downturned head. He opened his arms to her, giving her a warm grin to tell her, “God, it’s good to have you here.” Allison stepped into his embrace and he held her tight, resting his head down on hers. “I can’t tell you how it feels to have you and Bucky back. Thank you for that.” He dotted a kiss into the top of her head, adding, “I missed you, Al.” 

She squeezed him back, when his arms cinched a little tighter around her. “I missed you, too.” Turning to rest her cheek on his shoulder, she admitted, “God, there were so many times I wanted to just call and say that I was still here and tell you what I was doing, but,” She gave a small shrug. “part of me was afraid I’d end up in a prison cell, if I did.” 

“I wish you had,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I just had to do this my way. The longer I was gone, I wasn’t sure I’d even have a place to come back to, after everything that happened.” 

“Everyone knows the truth, now,” Steve said, with a sure nod. “I know we aren’t much, but we’re still your family, Al. You’ll always have a home to come back to, no matter what. You don’t ever have to do anything on your own again.” 

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

“I don’t know what I’d do, if I lost you again,” he confided. 

“You won't,” she promised.

...

Bucky nodded to himself, turning to walk back out of the room from the balcony doorway. He understood everything now, seeing Allison wrapped up so tightly in his friend’s arms. In the back of his mind, he probably always knew. He just hadn’t wanted to see it, he supposed. Why else would she be so vocal about him needing to stop running from Steve? She’d wanted to get back to him all along. 

Turning the corner to go to the elevator, he shook his head at himself, muttering, “What were you thinking?” 

He couldn’t make sense of it, even now. How had he ever thought that any of the small affections from Allison had been anything more than friendly gestures? The jokes, her fussing over him, all she had done to help him and the fighting they’d done together over the last year. How could he mistake it for anything other than friendship? A partnership. He was embarrassed, for having ever thought there was anything more behind the small moments they’d shared. It was ridiculous. If there would ever be a chance, it was because he’d have worn her down, insisting they stay on the run and unknowingly keeping her from Steve. If anything, she probably only began to give in in Bucharest, figuring she would never see Steve again. And it was all Bucky’s fault.

Disappointed as he was, he wasn’t mad. Steve had been his best friend and was a good guy. He deserved someone as amazing as Allison was. And she deserved someone who was just as good. Stepping into the empty elevator car to go upstairs to his room, he could picture the two of them, happy, together. If he strained hard enough, he could imagine himself being happy for them, eventually.

In the meantime, Bucky felt a weight hanging over him that made his shoulders sag in disappointment. No matter how happy he may one day be for his friends, tonight he felt miserably alone, for the first time in a long time.

“There you are.” 

He let a small sigh escape him before he turned around to answer her. “Yeah?” 

Allison jogged across the atrium to catch up to him. With a noisy exhale to exaggeratedly reset her breath, as if the exertion had taken anything out of her, Allison smiled, giving him a friendly once over, noting, “Haven’t seen you for a few days.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Guess they took a break from all their debriefing, for now.”

“Got a feeling they’ll be back for more on Monday,” she groaned. Her face brightened, a grin returning, as she looked ahead and around them, asking, “Where ya headed?” 

He gave a small sweep of his head. “Nowhere.” 

“Weird not having any plans, isn’t it?” Allison mused, looking around the compound lobby. “How’ve you been?” 

“Fine,” he shrugged. Bucky inclined his head her way. “You? ...Must be glad to be back home.” 

“This was never home for me,” she shrugged. “Home used to be a one bedroom apartment in DC.” Her head tipped, her gaze wandering around, considering, “It’s familiar, though. I like that.”

She brought her attention back to him. “You believe they sold it? My apartment, I mean,” she went on. “Part of some bullshit about settling my estate after I-“ She paused to make quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “died.” She snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. “They said most of my stuff’s in storage, so it’s not a complete wash. I mean, I know it’s just stuff, but still, it’s nice to have a little something left.”

“Well,” he tried to smile, “at least you’ve got Steve back.” 

“And you do, too,” she reminded him. “Have you two had any time to catch up?” 

“No, uh,” he fumbled, not exactly in the mood to talk about Steve with her yet, “not really. Been pretty busy with all the, uh, depositions and things with SHIELD.” He pinned on an awkward smile, adding, “What’s a few more days, right?” 

He felt his chest tighten, seeing the subtle tick in her brow, as she gave him a once over. “Everything alright? I thought we’d have to pry you two away from each other to get you to stop talking. You almost make it sound like you’re avoiding him.” 

Barnes flashed a grin, trying to keep from giving her a reaction that would confirm her suspicion. “Nah,” he assured her. “Just all these suits up my ass, asking all these questions...wears ya out, ya know?”

“Yeah,” she gave him a sympathetic nod. “S’pose they got a lot more questions to ask of you than me,” she realized. Allison reached out, giving his arm a gentle touch, telling him, “Well, don’t put it off much longer. I know he’s eager to talk to you.”

“I won’t,” he nodded. 

“You alright?” Allison wondered, sensing he seemed a little off. 

“Yeah,” he insisted, a subtle wrinkle coming to his brow, a bit defensive for the next once over she gave him. “Just lookin’ for a little peace and quiet, after the last couple ‘a days.” 

“You sure you don’t want some company?” she offered, not entirely satisfied. 

“I’m sure,” he told her. He thought better of his short answer, hoping to come off more convincing and less rude by adding, with a grin, “Thanks.”  

“Okay,” Allison nodded anyway, despite not feeling convinced by his answer. She allowed that maybe he was just looking for some privacy. Maybe his days of questioning were more intense than hers. She could understand his reluctance for company, if that were the case. She put on a smile, saying as she turned to got back the way she came, “See ya around.” 

“Yeah. See ya.”


	16. Chapter 16

Staring into the library from the edge of the doorway, Bucky sighed, steeling himself before he spoke up. “Hey.” 

Steve looked up from the tablet in his hands, as Barnes stepped into the room. Allison had a tablet of her own she was reading. Her head rested on a throw pillow propped against Rogers’ leg, her earbuds in, too preoccupied to have noticed Bucky come in. But Steve smiled, tucking his tablet away between his side and the arm of the couch. “Hey. Where ya been?” 

Bucky shrugged, all but ignoring the question, as he slowly moved along the wall of shelves, eyeing the books without really bothering to notice any of the titles. He glanced over his shoulder, hearing Allison say hello. She was just sitting up and taking out an earbud to hear again. She smiled at Steve, putting her hand on his knee and giving it a pat, as she stood up and told them, “I’m going to bed. See you guys later.” 

Steve’s gaze followed her up and across the room to the door, an easy smile on his face as he watched her go and pull the door shut behind her. Bucky watched, too, his own look a bit unsure of what to say or do next. He quickly broke his attention off the door and went back to perusing the bookcases, when the door latched shut. 

“Stark’s got a hell of a collection of sci-fi,” Steve offered, and Bucky grinned at the soft opening. “Some of the newer stuff’s pretty good.”

Bucky turned around from the shelves again, musing, “I’ll have to check that out.” 

“You've got plenty of time,” he happily noted, “now that you and Allison aren’t on the run.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky quietly agreed, giving a bob of his head and curling his hands over the back of the arm chair in front of him. “Listen, about that...” 

Rogers put a hand up to stop him. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he assured him. “You and Allison both. I understand, you guys did what you had to do. It maybe wasn’t the way I’d have like to have seen it happen, but you guys really did accomplished a lot in the last year. Can’t really argue with results. I only wish I could’ve helped.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“I’ve heard some stories from Al,” he mentioned. “About the two of y-“ 

“About that,” Bucky interrupted. “I wanna apologize, for some of the things I did and, maybe, said. I don’t want any misunderstandings or bad blood to-“ 

“Buck, you don’t have t-“ 

“No,” he swept his head, “I have to. Your my best friend and...” He nodded to himself. “I owe you an apology. I didn’t know, okay? I mean, she never said-“ Bucky exhaled heavily. “You know me. Well,” he reconsidered, “the old me, anyway. I hope you believe me when I say, there’s a lot of the old me still here.” 

“I do,” Steve nodded, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees and fold his hands as he listened. 

“Good,” he nodded once. “Then you know you can believe me when I tell you that I never would’a done, or even said, some ‘a the things I did, if she had ever told me.” 

His brow pulled down in a confused crease and Steve shook his head. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m saying, I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he earnestly told him, feeling completely guilt ridden to confess, “I only even tried because she never said anything. No ring or nothin’. It was just the two times we kissed, back when we first met. She didn’t want anything to do with it then and I left it at tha-“ 

“You _what_?” Steve gaped, his gaze now leveled at Bucky. 

He held out a hand, hoping for a little restraint, and mercy, from his friend, as he explained, “I swear, nothing else happened. We went on the move and that was it. Just those two times. After that, I-“ 

His hands parted to hang loosely over his knees, as Rogers pressed, “You _kissed_ Al? ... _Twice_?” 

“Steve, hey, listen,” Bucky hurriedly said. He turned his hand to put to his chest, completely sincere when he continued, “I wasn’t gonna try again. I mean, I wanted to-“ He grimaced and swept his head. “No. What I meant was, she’s beautiful. But she said no, and I get why now. I was just... I don’t know. I guess, I was just looking for something and, in Budapest, when we started getting our feet under us again and we weren’t running and hiding every night...it just...” He sighed, his hands rising and falling in a helpless gesture. “It felt like there was something there that obviously wasn’t. I see now, the comments and the-“ Bucky shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I read it wrong, and I’m sorry.” 

“What the hell are you apologizing to me for?” Steve shook his head, looking only slightly more confused than Bucky felt. 

He pointed at Steve, saying, “You and Allison... I saw you together, the other night, on the balcony. I heard you saying how much you missed each other; that she didn’t have to be alone anymore and you’d be lost without her.” Bucky didn’t think it was possible, but the furrow in Steve’s brow grew even deeper and he braced himself, half expecting to get punched and 100% thinking he deserved it. “You were holding her, the whole time.”

“You mean-“ Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. “You think Al and I are _dating_?” 

“Look, if it’s anything more than that, I swear, I had no idea,” he started to excuse, but stopped, completely dumbfounded by the boisterous laughter that exploded from his friend. 

Doubled over and clutching his hand to his chest, Rogers wheezed, “ _Holy_ _shit_.” He waved a hand in the air, trying to compose himself enough to say, “You moron, she’s just a friend. One of my best friends, but-” He shook his head and Bucky swore he saw tears gathering in his eyes from him laughing so hard. “That’s hilarious!” He pointed to Bucky, begging, “You _actually_ thought me and Al-?” 

“Hey,” Bucky scowled, “easy there, jackass.” He pointed away, recalling, “I saw you two, with my own eyes-“ 

“You need to get your fuckin’ eyes checked,” he kept laughing. “Whatever you saw, it ain’t happenin’. She was the first real friend I made, when I came outta the ice. That’s all. I love Al like my sister. Don’t apologize to me. You can _have_ her.” 

Rogers was still laughing, his face getting red from the exertion, when Bucky huffed, “Fine. I’m not sorry, you fuckin’ hyena.” 

“What the hell?” Steve started laughing all over again. Leveling his eyes at him, Bucky flipped Steve off and headed for the door. “Wait,” Rogers called after him, trying his best to reign in his humor. “Don’t be all pissy. Where are you going?” 

“To kiss your sister,” Barnes declared, swinging open the door, ignoring the fresh round of laughter spilling out into the hall from behind him. 

...

Standing outside her guest room door, he’d lost his momentum. Bucky stood like a statute, his hand clenched at his side and ready to knock, but somehow too heavy to lift. He dropped his head and unfurled his fist, stretching and splaying his fingers out wide, while he exhaled heavily.

Barnes shook his head at himself. He should just knock. Just knock and get it over with, and- 

He looked back up at the door again. _And_ _what_? What had he even wanted to say? Or was it a question he needed to ask? He was so confident only minutes ago. He heard the words in his head, but couldn’t figure out how to get them to his mouth. To tell her that he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s never been happier than when he’s with her. To tell her how much each touch and smile from her meant to him.

If he could just knock on the door and tell her that he loved her, what would she say? They had grown so much closer, he thought, in the last several months. But she had been so hesitant in Algiers; so unsure. If he couldn’t muster the words and just showed her how he felt; just swept her into his arms and kissed her, what would she do?

A disdainful smirk came to him, considering how bold he had been with women, back in the day. Cocky, maybe a little cavalier. Finding a pretty twist, here and there, for a few drinks at the bar and a little fun on a Friday night. But none of them had ever struck him the way Allison had. She was like nothing he’d ever seen. Beautiful, yes, but she was more than that; her sense of humor and the sound of her laughter, the strength of her heart and her kindness, from the skills she used to help and protect him to the little ways he took as doting on him. She was one of the strongest people he knew, in more ways than one. She was flawed, like anyone, but she shined to him like the sun.

He realized he’d been spoiled, by having her all to himself for so long. Now that they had come home, he could easily see her attention becoming divided, by getting back in touch with her old life, and he worried someone else could come along and replace him. Someone less damaged and complicated. She was all he could imagine ever wanting, but was he enough for her?

Everything around them was still in upheaval. He had no idea what would happen next, after the questioning from SHIELD stopped. Would they be separated? Despite Steve’s assurances that he had spoken to important people on their behalf, part of him couldn’t help worrying there were still consequences waiting for him for his past as the Winter Soldier. But Allison, he thought, still had a chance to start over.

Against the instance of his heart, he took a step backward. His other foot followed, dragging back to turn him away, head hanging and fist clenched on his way to his room. 

“Good morning,” Steve smiled, giving Allison’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze on his way around the kitchen island.

With a mouthful of cereal, she smiled in reply. When she finished chewing, she reciprocated with a bright, “Hey. Good morning.”  

“So,” Steve began, pulling open a cupboard door to get a mug for himself, “how’d last night go?” 

With another spoonful of cornflakes and banana already in her mouth, Allison shook her head, mumbling around her food, “What’s that?” 

“You know,” he led her on, grabbing the carafe of coffee from the burner and pouring himself a cup, as he turned to see her again, “you and Bucky...” 

“Me and Bucky?” she frowned, a deep wrinkle of confusion pulling down her brow. “Haven’t seen him since the library.”

“Oh,” Steve quietly realized. He turned slowly, putting the coffee pot back down. 

“What do you mean, _oh_?” she snorted, dipping her spoon back into her bowl. 

“It’s just, he- I mean, I thought he was-“ Rogers fumbled, dropping his gaze to the mug in his hands and immediately putting his attention to spooning sugar into his cup. “It’s nothing. Never mind.” 

A dubious squint came to her eyes and Allison put down her spoon, knowing he was hiding something. “Steeeve...” 

“Hm?” he innocently hummed, his back to her as he mixed his drink on the counter. 

“What about Bucky?” she pressed, a surprising twist of anxiousness in her gut and a level in her gaze. 

He glanced over his shoulder, giving her expression at him an offended scowl, as he begged, “Jesus. What?” 

“Did he say something to you?” Allison asked, before she realized how eager she might have sounded and quietly cleared her throat. “Is he okay?” 

Rogers scoffed, throwing her another indignant glance. “Yeah, of course, he is.” He looked away, putting his spoon in the sink. “Just said he was gonna look for you is all.” He shrugged. “Just wondering if he found you,” he excused, before lifting his mug for a taste of his coffee. “Why? S’something wrong?”  

“No,” Allison shrugged it off, with what she hoped was an indifferent purse of her lips. She took up her spoon again, loading it up with her next bite. “Just making sure.” 

They watched each other, as she chewed and he drank. “Because, if there were anything going on, or you were worried about something,” Steve mentioned, “you know you can tell me.” 

“I know.” She flashed a grin, putting aside her spoon to pick up her bowl with both hands and drink the last of her meal. She was still curious about what Bucky wanted and suspicious of Steve’s dodgy replies, but she didn’t have time to get a better answer. Allison got up from the island to take her dishes to the sink. “I gotta get going,” she grumbled. “Another day of questioning starts in ten minutes.” 

“How ya holdin’ up?” he checked, taking another sip of coffee. 

Allison gave a small, but thoughtful, nod. “I’m okay. Just wondering how long it’s going to last.” 

“Can't last forever,” he assured her, with a sympathetic grin. “You made the right decision, staying here, talking to SHIELD.” 

With a soft snort of amusement, she mused, “We’ll see.” She turned to go, but paused, looking back. “Hey, what was that guy’s name again? The new Director. I feel like I’ve heard it before.” 

“Coulson. He’s a good man,” Rogers nodded. “You’d like him. If anyone can right the ship, it’s him.” 

Allison hummed with a nod, before starting for the door. “Well, don’t want to keep everyone waiting. I’ll see you later,” she said, with a small wave goodbye.

         

“Lt. Addams?” 

Allison looked up toward the door, as it was opened. The pair of agents across from her gathered their paperwork and moved to stand, finished for the day. She watched them leave, giving respectful nods of acknowledgment to the suited man in the doorway on their way out. 

“I don’t know if you remember me,” he humbly began, meandering into the room, his hands folded to hang non-threateningly in front of him. The memory of seeing him with Fury before came back to her, as he continued, “I’m Phil Coulson. We worked in the Triskelion at the same time. I was an Agent, with Special Services.” 

“I remember seeing you,” she nodded, looking up at him from her seat at the table in the middle of the interview room. 

Coulson grinned, seeming happy with her reply. “We never got the chance to work directly together,” he went on, “but I helped STRIKE with a few things, here and there. I’m a great admirer of your work with Echo. Just incredible, the things you did.” He flashed a boyish grin, telling her, “I know we never officially met, but everyone knew who you were, being the first woman to qualify for Echo and from your work in Clandestine Services. You were almost as big a name as Captain Rogers was. And now this; you and Sgt. Barnes, everything you’ve brought us on HYDRA. You just might be bigger.” 

Allison shyly shook her head, at the comparison. “Just doing my job, Sir.” 

“About that,” he said, raising a finger at his next thought. “I was wondering, what are your long term plans, now that you’ve come back?” 

Despite her grin, Allison wasn’t joking when she said, “I hope not to end up in prison, Sir.” 

Coulson smiled, snuffling a laugh as he nodded once. “Complicated as your situation might be,” he acknowledged, “I wouldn’t plan on three hots and a cot, if I were you.” Allison let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, as he continued, “It would be a dishonor to everything you’ve done for us in the last two years, for this country to turn her back on you like that.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” she humbly said. 

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” he invited, turning his shoulder and inclining his head toward the door.

Allison took his cue and followed him out to the hall. Their walk only took them to the next door, where Coulson opened the door to show her the observation area attached to the next interview room. On the other side of the two-way glass, Barnes was looking a little tired, but otherwise well, as he was being questioned by two suited men seated across from him at a table. Watching the interview was Rogers, reclined comfortably in a rolling office chair at the control desk lined along the glass. Seeing Allison and Coulson come in, the Captain clicked off the speaker in the room, giving Allison a quick grin in welcome. 

“We have a few more questions for Sgt. Barnes,” Coulson told her, “as I’m sure you can understand.” Allison nodded. “But I wanted to assure you, he’s no more a prisoner than you are. SHIELD is grateful, to you both, for your cooperation, and you’re both free to leave, at any time.” Steve had been splitting his attention between Allison and Coulson and, after the Director’s last comment, turned his gaze back toward Bucky in the next room, as Coulson added, “But I hope that you would both consider staying put.”  

“Staying put?” she questioned. 

“Here,” he grinned, lifting his hand up, “with the rest of the team.” 

Allison looked over, seeing Steve watching her again. “We could use you, Al,” Rogers seconded, “if you’re still willing to fight.” 

“Our agents located the storage unit in Bucharest, exactly where you said it’d be,” Coulson nodded approvingly. “The volume and detail of intelligence you and Sgt. Barnes have provided is unprecedented. As we decrypt the data and verify targets, we’d like you to continue the work you started, with our support and resources, of course.” 

“Your experience, from the last two years, would be invaluable,” Steve agreed. “There’s a lot we can learn and, with us working together again, we can finally put an end to HYDRA.” 

“Be an Avenger?” she hesitated to believe. 

Steve gave a firm nod. “I’ve already spoken to the others,” he told her. 

A little dumbfounded by the offer, Allison looked through the mirror to Bucky, still answering the agents in front of him. “I don’t know,” she finally managed. “It’s- I mean...” 

“Take some time,” Coulson smiled. “Think it over.” He gave them both a nod, adding to Allison, before he turned for the door. “I’ll be in touch. I look forward to your decision.”

Coulson stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. Allison stared after him. She came back to the moment, hearing Steve rise from his chair and his footsteps toward her. She turned to see him, as he reached out a hand to put on her shoulder. 

“I‘d understand, if you said, no,” he told her. “You’ve already done so much. It’s not fair to ask you to do more. But, if it’s something you still want, there’s a place for you here.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gave her a warm grin. “Take your time.”  


	17. Chapter 17

Allison looked up from her stare at her bottle of water, putting her chin to her shoulder to see who opened the door. She’d zoned out, lost to her thoughts, recalling the last few months with Barnes, trying to assign meaning to the dozens of moments between them and the new feelings they brought, and what they meant to Coulson’s offer, when she heard the latch on the door to the balcony overlooking the compound open.

She sat a little straighter, confused and a little nervous to see Romanoff step outside. The door was still open behind her and Allison’s attention snapped back to it, instantly on alert, when Natasha called out, “She’s out here.” 

“Al?” 

The air fell out of her, relieved when Barton appeared in the doorway, his hopeful brow wrinkled up with a hint of hesitation, as if he didn’t believe his own eyes. He moved quickly across the way, barely giving Allison a chance to rise to her feet, before he swept her up into a tight hug that lifted her feet off the floor. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Clint set her down, putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her at arms length and look her over. “I thought you were dead.”  

“I’m sorry,” Allison regretfully offered. 

“I’m sorry, she says,” he laughed, before pulling her back in to him. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”

“I told you,” Natasha said, with a proud grin, folding her arms smugly. 

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled, as he let Allison go. “I couldn’t believe it, until now. Jesus Christ, Al.” Clint swept his head and caught his breath. “You should have called. I’d have come for you. We all would.” 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t,” Allison quipped. 

Barton scoffed, his head ticking back incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I never believed you were HYDRA. Hell, if just being on STRIKE meant you were one of them, I’d be screwed, too.” 

“Thankfully, that‘s been cleared up,” Natasha nodded once. 

Clint’s smile was still wide. “God, it’s good to have you back. I’m glad you’re safe, too. Nat told me all about it, on the way up here. It’s unbelievable.”

”Helluva story,” Romanoff seconded. 

“Did my best,” Allison shrugged. 

“I’ll say,” he beamed. 

“Nick told us, Coulson asked you to stay,” Natasha noted. 

Allison’s ears pricked and head tipped. “Nick?” She looked between Barton and Romanoff. Nat only knew one Nick. “Fury?” 

“He's alive,” Clint nodded. He pointed a finger at Allison, with a quizzical look. “You didn’t know?” 

“Not exactly something people go around saying,” Natasha dryly reminded him, before turning back to Allison. “Pulled a disappearing act, like you,” she explained, “for awhile there, after DC. Only a few of us know. Coulson runs SHIELD, but Fury is still behind us, and in the shadows everywhere else.” 

Allison took her seat again. “Wow,” she quietly marveled. 

“Right?” Clint chuckled, folding his arms and still looking thoroughly amused to see Allison.  

“But then what about you?” Allison asked Natasha. “You and Stark and that guy, Ross...” 

Her brow wagged up. “Well,” she tipped her head, a kind of weak shrug, “picking a side doesn’t mean you have to _stay_ there.” 

“You should’a just stayed out of it,” Clint chided. “Took my advice and retired.” 

“You’re retired?” Allison grinned at the idea, trying to imagine it. 

“Well, I mean-“ he fumbled, pursing his lips out in a frown, “retiring doesn’t mean you have to _stay_ retired.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head, before looking to Allison and cocking up a brow. “So, how ‘bout it?” Romanoff checked. “You joining the team?” 

“Yeah,” Barton chimed in. “You and Barnes?” 

Allison took in a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I mean, I just got the offer. It’s a lot to consider.” 

He nodded sympathetically, solemnly agreeing, “Yeah. But if it’s any help to you making your decision, we want you back.” 

“Thanks,” Allison warmly smiled.

“Hey,” Allison said, reaching out toward Bucky but stopping short of touching him, as he stepped out of the interview room. 

Barnes turned over his shoulder, brow raised in interest, not expecting to have anyone waiting for him. He stopped and turned on his heel, looking around to see if there was anyone else around. He glanced behind him, seeing the two agents who’d been conducting his interview continuing on their way. 

“Hey,” he repeated, taking a step toward her, as she did the same. 

“How was it in there?” she asked, tipping her head toward the room beside them, starting with idle chitchat to try and settle her nerves twisting her stomach.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Just long days,” Bucky shrugged. “That’s all.” He lifted his chin to her. “You? You done for the day?” 

“They’re done with me, for now,” she told him, and he nodded. There was a pause between them, before Allison mustered the courage to ask, “Are you going somewhere? Can we talk?” 

“Yeah. Sure,” he agreed, tuning in to the uneasiness he saw in her expression. He jerked his thumb toward the wall and the interview room on the other side. “You wanna sit down?” 

“Not here,” she shook her head. “I don’t want anyone listening.” 

Barnes felt his spine stiffen, wary of what she had to say. “Okay,” he nodded anyway, raising his hand to direct her down the hall. They weren’t far from an elevator to take them down to the atrium of the main building and outside. He tried to be patient, as they rode the elevator and walked in silence. Allison was waiting to speak, until they had wandered away from the building and were in the open green space by the helipad. 

“I don’t know if anyone’s said anything to you,” she began, and Bucky was relieved she had taken a long look around them and missed him swallowing the lump that had been building in his throat, “but they asked me to stay.” 

“Who?” he asked, as her attention came back to him. 

“SHIELD. Steve,” she told him. “They want me to help them take down HYDRA.” 

Barnes blinked, taking in her answer, not knowing what he had expected to hear, but not feeling any better regardless. “Stay here?” he checked, pointing down to the ground at his feet. 

Allison nodded. “As an Avenger.” 

It took a moment for the surprise to wear off, and even then all he could manage was a contemplative, “Wow.” 

She nodded again, understanding the reaction. “What should I do?” 

“What should y-“ Bucky gave an incredulous chuckle. “What are you asking me for? How would I know?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, with a useless sweep of her head. “I just-“ She gave a limp shrug, realizing, “I haven’t made a move without you in a year.” 

“You were making plenty, before you met me,” he noted, with a small, but proud, smirk. Allison tittered, her gaze fallen away to her feet shifting in the grass. He watched her for a moment, her eyes still averted and demeanor uncharacteristically unconfident, before he pointed out, “Sounds like you could have the best of both; keep fighting the good fight and still come home. Doesn’t sound like a hard decision to make.” 

“But what abou-“ She stopped, her eyes coming back up to his. She was a little embarrassed at how hard the conversation was turning out to be. The idea of having a home again, so to speak, was nothing compared to the emptiness she felt when she worried Barnes wouldn’t stay. It took her a beat to find the words again. “What about you?” 

His heart soared to hear her ask, but he kept his expression sober, suddenly thinking of all the possibilities in front of her and not wanting to hold her back. “What about me?” he softly snorted, playing it off with an indifferent shrug. 

A shy grin flinched into the corner of her mouth. “I mean...” she stalled, it suddenly occurring to her that he might not have met with Coulson yet, if he was still being questioned. “What would you do, if they gave you that chance?” 

“Me?” His brow rose at the thought. An awkward grin pulled back the side of his mouth, knowing, “Well, I’m not really the type of guy they’d recruit.” 

“Say they did,” she insisted. 

Bucky gave it a thought, slow to consider, “It wouldn’t be the same, for me. Zemo proved I’m not exactly safe to have around. Maybe I’d be better off on my own, away from people, so I can’t hurt anyone again.” He gestured at her with an open hand. “But you? You’d have your job back- basically. A roof over your head, with your friends again. Why wouldn’t you?”

“You don’t want to stay here?” Allison questioned, and immediately thought better of how quick she’d asked. “I mean, you and Steve are finally-“ 

With a crooked grin, he interrupted to concede, “It’d be nice, but the number ‘a times I’ve tried to kill him, in the last coupl-“ 

“That wasn’t you,” she rolled her eyes, “and you know it. We can keep working on the triggers. Now that we have a safe place to try, and with SHIELD and someone like Stark’s help, I know we can get it out of your head, just like the fail safe.” 

“You’d want me to stick around?” he carefully pressed. 

She gave an awkward snort, feeling a soft flush coming to her cheeks. “Well, yeah. I thought we were a team,” she reminded him, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “We promised we wouldn’t split up again.” 

“Remind me of that again...” he squinted an eye at her. “Was that in Bucharest?” His expression cleared, as he sarcastically continued, “Yeah. Yeah, it was. Right before you ditched me to go to Germany and chase Zemo by yourself.” 

Allison’s lips puckered, holding back her smile as she nodded tightly. “That’s cool,” she grumbled, as she pulled a hand back from her pocket to flip him off. 

“I’m just sayin’...” he casually shrugged, with a chuckle. The moment of levity passed and it was quiet again. Bucky took the chance to ask, “If you don’t join them...what would you do?” He grinned, suggesting, “Retire?”

She took a long look around, shaking her head, her jaw working as her options ran through her head. A wistful smile came to her, recalling, “My friend, Mick, one time, joked he was going to mix paint at Home Depot when he retired. _My_ retirement plan was to drive to the store every day and harass him, or take over an island nation and enjoy the beach ‘til I died.” She looked back to Barnes. “I never had an actual plan. Guess, maybe, I wasn’t planning on living long enough to need one. I don’t have one, now. Truth is, if I stay here; fight with them, I probably won’t need one then, either. So...”

“That’s a little dark for you, isn’t it?” he frowned. “If one of us was the pessimist, I figured it was me.” 

“Always been a realist,” she conceded. “What, am I supposed to go get some 9-5, wear a little business suit everyday, and pretend I don’t know a thousand ways to kill a man?” Allison shook her head. “Not me.” She inhaled deeply, realizing, “I’m no good at anything else. I don’t know _how_ to do anything else. I don’t have any loftier dreams. This is just what I do.” She nodded to herself, knowing, “I should stay.” She looked at Bucky, catching the subtle flinch in his brow. She took in a deep breath, before she finished, “...but I don’t know if I would, without you.”

He swallowed, exhaling slowly. “You’ve already given up so much,” he told her, his head hanging low. “I don’t want you thinking you have to give up anymore, to what? To keep me company?” Bucky weakly chuckled and swept his head. “No.” 

“You can stay, too,” she told him, thinking how the news might change his mind. Regardless of what Coulson’s reasoning might be for not telling Barnes yet, she wanted him to hear there might be more than one reason to stay, thinking whatever there was between them might not be enough, now that things had changed. “Here. With the team. Be an Avenger.” 

“An Aveng- Pfft,” he quietly scoffed, picking his head up again. “No, that’s not me. They would nev-“ 

“They will,” Allison nodded. “They have. They just haven’t told you, yet.” Bucky felt the lump growing in his throat again, as she went on and all he could do was blink. “We can stay here, with Steve and the others. You and me. They see what we did on our own and they want our help. Steve _and_ SHIELD. Think about what we could do with that,” she urged. “We could finally take down HYDRA.” 

Bucky had been slowly nodding along. He swallowed, before wondering, “Is that what you want? Is that what we’d stay for?” 

“Wasn’t that the mission?” she reminded him, reaching for any extra reason. “To stop them; to make sure they can never do what they did to you again?” 

“Yes,” he conceded. “...What else is there?” 

Allison shook her head, an unexpected flutter of nervousness in her belly. Since she got Coulson’s offer, she had been turning over every detail of her time with Barnes in her head, trying to figure out the depth of his intentions since that night in Algiers. If ever there was a time or place that she could bend and give what he had been saying a shot, it was here, where they were safe and had a chance to start over. But they’d barely spoken since they arrived at the Compound and she’d been sensing a gap growing between them in that short time. Algiers had never come up again and she worried if the chance was gone. “What do you mean?” she wondered, more than a little anxious to hear him say more. 

“Is that all you want me to stick around for,” he pressed, “the fight? So we don’t break up the team?” 

Allison blinked, her lips parted to speak, but no words ready, surprised that she might be a reason still to stay after all, let alone _the_ reason. “I- Well...” 

Barnes took a step closer. “I could stay and fight,” he offered. “We can fight, all day, every day, ‘til the sun burns out,” he told her. “After HYDRA, it’ll be someone else. There’s always someone else.” His eyes wandered over her face and his warm hand came up to caress her cheek. “But the in between, between the fights-” he swept his head. “The hundreds of thousands of moments there’d be in between... what do you want from them?” Her hand came up to curl over his wrist, as she leaned in to his touch. “What do you want from me? ‘Cause I already know what I want those moments to be.” He brought up his other hand, cupping her face to look deep into her eyes and hope one last time, “Tell me it’s more than just a deal we made.” 

Allison gave a small nod in his hands, feeling the heat come up behind her eyes, relieved and ready to lower her guard, and he tipped his forehead down to hers, letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” she softly confessed, putting her other hand on his metal arm. “When I saw that you’d been arrested, after I left you, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you,” she finally managed to tell him. 

Barnes swept his thumb to wipe away the tear that had escaped her lashes. He quietly shushed her and said, “You found me. We always seem to find each other.” 

“We finally get someplace safe, to slow down and breathe and think... and I’m still afraid,” she tittered, sniffling as he put a hand under her chin to turn her face up to his again. 

“Thought you weren’t afraid of anything,” he gently teased, flashing an easy smile. 

“I am,” she gave a small nod. “Of losing everything again. I don’t know if I could do that twice.” Allison shook her head. “That was fear, in Germany. It was real, honest to god, I didn’t know if I ever would see you again _fear_. And now, the idea of you not staying...” Her grip over his arms tightened. “Of not knowing where you are or if you’re okay... What is that?” 

“It’s awful,” he knew all to well, as his hand slipped to the nape of her neck, drawing her into him and holding her close. Her arms wrapped around him. ”It’d been gnawing at me, since you walked out that door to go after Zemo. And it didn’t stop until I saw you standing in that hall in Siberia.” Bucky’s arms cinched a little tighter, softly telling her, “It’s why I’d stay here, if you told me to, or I’d go, if you wanted to.” His eyes closed, feeling the subtle shudder in her exhale. “I think it’s what we’re both saying, if either of us were listening.” 

A quiet sigh escaped her, as she pulled back to see him. The back of his fingertips ghosted along her jaw and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling, before she shook her head. “I don’t want you doing something because of me,” she told him, nuzzling her cheek to his hand when it turned to sweep his thumb along her cheek. “You've already lost so much time doing what someone else wanted.” 

Bucky nodded. There was no disagreement there. He combed his fingers back into her hair, as she rested her cheek to his shoulder and he lowered his chin to hers, to say, “I want to stay here. Not because it’s where you’re gonna be.” He bowed his head to her shoulder. “With or without me, you were always coming here. You just didn’t know it. This is where you belong, but it’s the closest to home that I’ll ever find again. You were right. Someday, I’d have to stop running.” He nodded to himself. “Now I can.” 

Allison leaned back, pulling up her hands to turn his face to see her. “I’m gonna stay and you’re gonna stay,” she hoped, her damp eyes searching back and forth between his, “because we both want to. Right? Because we promised to stay together, and I don’t wanna lose you. No matter who or how much of my old life I could get back, it wouldn’t be enough without you. Okay?” she earnestly nodded, sniffling and inwardly begging to believe she wasn’t making a fool of herself. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, relief in the grin hinting at the side of his mouth, pressing his forehead to hers. “We promised. I promise.”  

“Okay,” she nodded, turning up her face to give him a shy smile, relieved they were finally in the same space.

Her arms slipped up to fold behind his neck, when he wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to each other for a silent moment, before Bucky gave her a small sway and took a step back to see her. He wiped at the damp line drawn down her cheek, with a warm grin, wondering, “What’s this all about? I thought you’d be happy.” 

Allison sniffed, thumbing at her nose, and turning her eyes up to the evening sky to laugh at herself. She bowed her head, nodding, assuring him, “I am.” 

“Good,” he smiled. 

“Are you kidding me?!”  
“That’s it?!”  
“What’s going on? Ay, speak up! We can’t hear you!”

Allison and Bucky both looked, turning back to see the balcony on the building behind them. They had apparently been spotted, at some point, and gathered an audience. Allison felt her cheeks flush, as Natasha lifted her hand from where she leaned on her arms on the railing to waggle her fingers in a wave “hello” and Steve, Clint, Sam, and Tony stood by chuckling.

“So, wait. Does that mean she’s stayin’?” Clint wondered. He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout down, as if Allison and Bucky couldn’t already hear them talking purposefully loud, “S’that mean you’re stayin?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Allison winced, dropping her head to lean into Bucky’s shoulder.

His shoulders shook with the laughter he was holding back. He reached across himself, putting a consoling hand on Allison’s shoulder, muttering a kind of apology in, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice anyone come out.” 

“Youre obviously slipping,” she seconded.

“Hey! Get off the lawn,” Tony chided, flipping a hand to shoo them away, before threatening, “I’ll have JARVIS turn on the sprinklers...”

“I thought you said you were gonna kiss her,” Steve complained, his brow furrowed down in all seriousness, before a big smile spread across his face.  

Allison picked up her head, cocking up a curious brow at Bucky. “You told him you were going to kiss me?” 

“Well, I-“ Bucky scratched at the back of his neck. “I might’a said...y’know, something...like that...the other day.” He pulled his hand away to jerk his thumb back toward the gawkers on the balcony. “This wasn’t exactly the scenario I had in mind.” 

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, her brow wagging up, curiosity piqued. 

“Something a little more private,” he shrugged, with a shy grin and awkward chuckle. “A lot more, actually.” 

“Something like you and me, someplace quiet,” she suggested, her voice low and tempting, giving the side of his shirt a small pull where no one could see, “tugging at clothes and bumping into walls.” 

“Wow,” he breathed out, feeling a rise in his pulse as his brow wrinkled down to admit, “Your idea’s a lot more fleshed out than mine was.” 

“Wanna get out of here and see if it’s as good an idea as it sounds?” Allison checked. 

Bucky gave her a nod, taking her hand in his to move her along with him. As they headed back inside, Clint and Tony heckled the new couple from above, whistling and cooing. Bucky glanced back up, catching Steve’s approving smile at him, as Barnes flipped off the crowd. 

“It’s good to be home, isn’t it?” Allison smirked, moving her arm under his to hug and lean into his side.


End file.
